


With Every Brushstroke

by voidslantern



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, Daddy Kink, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Grieving, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, SHEITH - Freeform, Size Kink, Slow Burn, Voyeurism, i used to tag this as modern setting but it's not quite anymore, low-key Sugar Daddy Shiro, past Adam/Shiro mention, past Keith/James Griffin mention, past allura/lotor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2019-07-01 04:45:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 143,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15766881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidslantern/pseuds/voidslantern
Summary: "The most beautiful man in existence is sitting gloriously naked safe for a cloth covering his sex in front of Keith and he is supposed to draw him without giving out how the model is setting his blood on fire every time he has to look at him.And then he catches his gaze and winks at Keith and he feels his pencil snap in his hand."Lance has a plan to win Allura's heart and somehow it's Keith who ends up with a crush.





	1. • lost and lead only by the stars

**Author's Note:**

> The idea has been bugging me for a very long time. I just kept getting glimpses of Shiro posing for Keith, and the next thing I know I am writing an AU fic.
> 
> [2019/04/08]  
> I've started this fic in part because I wanted to improve my English but this quickly expanded into a much longer story than I've initially planned. 100k in and I'm still nowhere done. This is self-indulgent and silly but I am fond of WEB and way too excited to keep going.  
> Thank you for sticking around, commenting and leaving kudos. It means a lot to me ❤️

**** The most beautiful man in existence is sitting gloriously naked safe for a cloth covering his sex in front of Keith and he is supposed to draw him without giving out how the model is setting his blood on fire every time he has to look at him.

And then he catches his gaze and winks at Keith and he feels his pencil snap in his hand.

 

_ [Two weeks before] _

 

There is this loud, insistent banging on his front door and a familiar voice cutting through the air like a siren.

“Keith! Keith! Keeeiiiithhh! I know you’re in there, open up!”

Keith is blinded by his phone’s screen glaring the absolutely obscene 3:12 in the morning at him and slides off the bed, throwing a blanket around his shoulders and contemplating what he shall do with Lance for all the noise in the middle of the night. As the abuse of the door continues, a nagging feeling of worry grows in Keith’s gut and makes him wake up enough to figure out how a digital lock works.

The moment he opens the door Lance just barges into Keith’s one-room apartment and instantly makes it seem smaller than it actually is, exclaiming, “Keith, you have no idea what happened!”

Keith blinks, still holding the doorknob. “What, what is it? Is everything alright?” 

If Lance hasn’t been standing in the middle of the room bouncing on his feet and looking nearly a decade younger than he is with a grin so wide on his face, Keith might’ve freaked out for sure.

“Everything is  _ more  _ than alright, buddy! Are you going to close that door or what?” Lance laughs as Keith feels a light touch of embarrassment heat his cheeks. He shuts the door and pads back to sit on his bed, rubbing residual sleep from his eyes.

“This is better be good, Lance. I have to be up for work at 6:30.”

"Oh shit — Okay, then, uh —"  Lance fumbles through his pockets and fishes out his phone, still bouncing and grinning. “You’re not gonna believe this...” 

Lance shoves his phone into Keith’s face, making him jolt away to avoid getting smacked by it. Keith has to squint a little, once again blinded by a screen too bright for 3am, until he finally figures out what Lance is showing him.

“Allura’s... single?”

“Allura is single!!!” Lance’s laughter reverberates through the room as he hugs Keith tightly.

“Ow, Lance, calm down! You’re gonna crush me.”

Lance lets go only to jump back to his feet, grinning from ear to ear.

“Allura is single! I think I woke the entire district with my yelling once I saw her status update.”

“No doubt on that, buddy,” Keith snorts and takes Lance’s phone to read the comments under Allura’s post, noticing her now ex’s been talking to people there, too. “Hey, Lotor is acting pretty decently with the whole breakup thing.”

“Yeah, I’m actually impressed, too.”

“Says Lance, who hates Lotor.”

Lance shrugs, sitting down on Keith’s couch and stretching out his long legs.  “I’m just on Allura’s side, that’s all.”

Keith finishes reading the thread and allows a small sigh of relief to escape his lungs. It’s been one hell of three years with enduring and shouldering Lance’s heartbreak over Allura and Lotor. Even if Keith is Lance’s best friend and, naturally, he is supportive of him, Keith himself had seen the telltale signs that the relationship between Lotor and Allura wasn’t working out. Considering that Keith is close with neither of them  — peak of their acquaintanceship being the customary “hello/thank you” and an occasional small talk over the weather  — he still had been able to notice the tension between the two when they used to check out together at his register at the Balmera Mall’s grocery store. He even had a small talk with Allura once and a casual question “Is everything alright?” had her nearly crying about how difficult were the times with her boyfriend.

Lance... Lance has taken their relationship close to heart. Given that he and Allura are next-door neighbours, Lance had seen it develop and bloom and it had hurt him in ways Keith doesn’t want Lance to be hurting ever again. It had taken some time for him to come to terms with it and to fill the role of a friendly neighbour who’s always there when Allura needs him. Over the years, the two have become if not friends, then good acquaintances. It had never been enough for Lance, though. He had had his bolts of immaturity and tried forgetting about Allura by dating random girls, but none of those hook-ups worked out and his heartache had always brought him back to her.

Lance had confided some of the conversations with Allura he had had to Keith, and Keith knows it’s been a rough year for Allura and Lotor’s relationship. Some problems within Lotor’s family have been taking a toll on him and he has become a changed man and Allura cannot follow him down the path he has chosen for himself.

Now that Lotor and Allura have finally decided to break up they have done it decently and reassure people asking questions that they are still good friends and won’t let their relationship change the fact. Keith is quite sceptical towards the things people say online but for Lance he lets it slide and focuses on his best friend instead.

“So you rushed to my place in the middle of the night just to break the news about your crush to me or what?”

“Ever the supporter, Keith,” Lance laughs, completely unbothered by Keith’s teasing tone. “But since you’re so curious, I’m gonna let you in on a secret.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve got a plan on how to win Allura’s heart, and you’re going to help me with it!”

Keith blinks up at his friend.  “How the hell am I supposed to help you with that? You — you want me to kidnap Allura or something?!”

“What, no! Relax, Keith, jeez.” Keith still doesn’t look much convinced. “You’re going to keep me company while I work my charm on Allura, that’s all.”

“Like a sidekick?”

“Like an  _ artsy _ sidekick.”

 

* * *

 

 

Two weeks later Keith finds himself sitting in a cosy art studio owned by Allura’s family, his favourite sketchbook perched against a light-wood easel and a travel kit with some of his art supplies secured in his lap as he fumbles through it in search for an eraser.  He has doodled a little while waiting for the art class to start and looked up the brand of the easel since he really likes how it feels under his arm, considering whether to buy one for home use or stick to his hard-cover sketchbooks instead.

Lance is sitting on Keith’s left, with a brand new sketchpad with a blue lion on the cover and a set of graphite pencils Keith has picked for him. It all looks crispy new in comparison to Keith’s well-worn art supplies and sticker-flecked sketchbook but Lance has that sharp determination in his eye that makes Keith believe he will manage to keep up with the rest of the group just fine.

They had spent their every free evening for past fortnight drilling some fundamentals into Lance’s head and had filled an entire 20-sheets pad with basic sketching to get Lance back on track. It felt like ages since their school days spent together making silly little comics and Keith silently relishes in the fact that they are at it again. Lance had fallen out of drawing shortly after graduating school but Keith kept going and now is way ahead of Lance.

So they have built their story around it  — get Lance back into art by attending some art studio courses. The fact that they’ve picked Altean Arts (owned by Allura’s family) and a course Allura leads is pure coincidence (and if anyone asks  — Keith is the one who picked it).

Initially, Keith has been a bit wary of Lance’s idea  — he personally thinks it is best to leave Allura be to work through her break-up on her own, but Lance has proven to be considerate of that and respects Allura. Keith grins, tapping the tip of his mechanical pencil against the doodle-filled page, and remembers how proud he felt watching Lance not to burst with his shitty pick-up lines at the first sight of Allura when they’d arrived to the studio early to fill out some forms for the course. Instead, Lance had been polite, if nervous, though he still managed to bring a smile to Allura’s lips and even her cyan eyes have bristled with laughter as the two chatted casually away.

“Psst, hey Keith, look,” Lance shows him a doodle of Keith and himself fist-bumping each other with shit-eating grins on their cartoonish faces.

“Nice one,” Keith laughs under his breath. Suddenly, he feels fifteen again, enjoying art with his friend.

Slowly, the studio begins to fill with people as the clock ticks away towards the start of their class. Keith pays little attention to them – he probably won’t even remember any of them, let alone recognise on the street. So he focuses on his friend and Allura instead as she finally takes the seat on the elevation in the middle of the semi-circle their desks formed.

“Welcome, friends, to your first class at Altean Arts! My name is Allura and I will be teaching this course and evaluating your work,” she speaks softly but confidently, a graceful smile on her lips as she makes sure to look each of the attendants in the eye.  “By the end of this course — that will be in seven months from now — each of you who successfully passes the final  _ art exam, _ ” she grins a little at the phrase and Keith, a 25-year-old who has finished studying ages ago, gets war flashbacks of passing any sort of tests run through his mind, “will receive a certificate and the best works will be displayed in the gallery of Altean Arts.” 

_...which, as we all know, is a big fucking thing in the art world, _ Keith finishes, the thought alone making him nervous.

“Boy, this course is a serious thing,” Lance mutters under his breath.

“No shit. Are you sure about this?”

“I’ve already paid like 3 months up-front, I’m stuck here and so are you, buddy.”

Keith groans and slides lower in his chair. “But exams? Really?”

“...The main theme of the course is the human body and its values, anatomy, as well as how perspective and environment affect the way of how it can be pictured."

Keith feels Lance nudge him a little with his boot. “Ask her something, come on.”

Keith sighs and rolls with it. He raises his hand sheepishly and Allura immediately nods for him to speak.

“Will there be any portrait practices?”

“My friend here is all hot and bothered for portraits,” Lance chirps in, earning a light shove from Keith.

“Yes of course,” Allura beams. “Wouldn’t want to leave anything behind, would we? In fact, we have hired several people to model for us — as diverse in physique, heritage, and age as possible — to keep up the challenge for you to be able to grasp the vastness of looks and appearance.”

“Cool,” Keith says, genuinely impressed.

“She talks like a real diplomat or something,” Lance whispers to Keith again. Keith nods, contemplating for the first time if he was actually going to enjoy this course just as much as Lance.

“In fact, this brings us to our first exercise...” There’s definitely a naughty look about Allura as she excuses herself, takes out her phone and texts someone before she speaks again, her white hair flowing after her as she gets up. “I know that this is probably too early for our course and might be too difficult for beginners but this is going to be the best way to establish where each of you stands and make us figure out the best way to move forward,” Allura lets herself sigh, “and it’s been a real pain to get him to agree to come today, so, it’s a bit of a special moment not just for the artists.”

Keith frowns, sharing a look with Lance, but then the door opens and a tall and broad-shouldered man with white hair a few shades darker than Allura’s walks in, wearing little but a dressing robe and a curious shade of red across his cheeks. Allura immediately jumps to his side, introducing.

“Alright everyone, meet my friend and our guinea pig — sorry — our  _ model _ for today, Takashi Shirogane!”

The man nods in greetings and asks to call him just Shiro and shifts awkwardly on his feet. Whispers roll through the room, students sharing their impressions which immediately subjects the man to even more anxiety as none of them is exactly subtle. Keith briefly wonders if it is his first time modelling but he isn’t here to judge someone else’s shyness when he can’t handle too much attention to himself, neither.

The distinct sounds of the class getting prepared for the drawing session fill the studio, everyone flipping open their sketchbooks and albums as Allura instructs to keep the drawing simple, focusing on the basics of form and lighting and their model sheds the robe — thankfully, he gets to preserve his dignity by using a simple linen cloth to cover his crotch — and settles on the elevation previously occupied by Allura. Under her guidance, he assumes a pose simple enough for anyone to draw.

It so happens that he faces Lance and Keith and Keith freezes as his eyes lock with Shiro’s. The sheer beauty of the man stuns Keith and labels him in ways he hasn’t expected, effectively ruining all of his previous assumptions of the concept as he stares and stares and  _ stares _ . Holy fuck but Shiro’s otherworldly.

Keith tries to act normal and mentally punches himself for gawking, so he turns to Lance again and his friend, as always, has his back. Lance makes a show of dusting his brand new sketchpad and opens the virginal pack of pencils with a little smirk on his face as he glances at Allura from across the room.

“Well, let’s get this thing started, shall we?” Lance says as he picks a pencil and makes a deep, if nervous, inhale, before he begins to sketch out the circles and guidelines just as Keith has taught him before.

“I believe in you, Lance,” Keith replies, his hand failing him as he tries to measure out that shoulders-to-waist ratio without completely losing himself in it. He ends up having to scrap and start over, moving on from his initial (and quite sudden, Keith really isn’t like that) attraction to the model to the concentration of an artist as he forces himself to look at the man not to admire his pecs but to see how they work with the rest of his body.

It is only now when Keith notices the bionic arm and the scars.

_ Oh. _

He glances at Allura, who sets some ambient music to play quietly in the studio, setting up a relaxing mood, and remembers her words from earlier. He looks at Shiro again and sees the stiff posture and taunt muscles, the blush not quite leaving his cheeks yet, and Keith wonders just how much convincing it took for Allura to get him to pose like this today.

In that moment, Shiro shifts briefly and looks at Keith. There’s a scar across his nose and cheeks, too. Keith mentally punches himself again for being so blind and thinking with the parts that clearly aren’t his brain and decides he wants to paint Shiro, and paint him well.

 

Some time passes, and Keith is down to the basic outline and begins to add details and establish shadows, while Lance still struggles with getting the shape of Shiro’s legs right. Allura steps in to help and point some things about Shiro’s legs out, and Keith can’t help but get amused by the entire dialogue.

“No, Lance, if you put the knee here, it’s too high, people can’t walk with their knees like this.”

“But before you said it was too low?”

“It was when you made his thighs thicker than two logs bound together! Here, let me just—” Allura takes the pencil out of Lances hand, brushing his fingers with slenderness of hers, and Lance blushes with light pink, completely mesmerised. Keith rolls his eyes and returns to rendering Shiro’s left bicep.

“What the hell is he drawing?” Shiro finally speaks after nearly an hour of complete and awkward silence, staring at Allura’s concentrated if heated debate with Lance.

Keith leans over to have a better look and despite being a good, supportive friend, bristles with laughter. Lance looks absolutely betrayed but Allura steals his attention once again.

“I think you’re better not to see what is going on there. It might convince you never to model again,” Keith answers, and a few chuckles roll through their group. Shiro’s brows knit together in concern and Keith briefly thinks he looks adorable.

 

Models are supposed to keep still through the session, but it takes great endurance to do so and breaks are necessary for them even more so than for the artists, so once their class reaches one hour mark Allura announces a 10-minute break. Keith sighs in relief and dives for his backpack in search for a chocolate bar, munching on it while listening to Lance’s rant. Allura throws Shiro his robe and he happily wraps himself in it, downing half a bottle of water in one go.

Keith is too distracted by Lance to notice Allura taking Shiro have a look at the progress of her students and he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself when she compliments Keith’s work and manages only a hum when even Shiro admits it looks promising. When Shiro sees Lance’s work though...

“It’s got... its charm, I guess?” Shiro says after he recollects himself enough to form coherent words.

“Of course, I mean, I drew it— heeey,” Lance finally notices Shiro’s shocked face and bristles, offended.

“We’ll work on it,” Allura says, patting Lance on his shoulder and guides Shiro to the next student.

Lance still looks completely disheartened by the time the break is over and they resume the session once again.

“Don’t give up, buddy,” Keith whispers to him, leaning over and showing him how to fix his drawing and Lance picks a pencil and sharpens it.

“This is my moment. I can do this.”  _ For Allura _ part stays unspoken.

 

Keith is confused. Utterly confused and he doesn’t quite know how to approach the subject without appearing like a biased douchebag.

He’s done with the most of his drawing except for Shiro’s bionic arm. He simply isn’t good with drawing anything that isn’t organic. His sketches of cars or spaceships or anything robotic end up looking like a child’s drawing, done with the non-dominant hand. He tries to establish the basic lines that form the hand, but he can’t quite shade it right. There are so many tiny, delicate details and parts in it; Keith simply can’t see them from where he sits. So he opts out to look pleadingly at Allura until she notices but she’s helping another student on the other end of the studio.

Keith sighs and runs a hand through his hair, frustrated beyond measure. He checks on Lance — and he’s doing so much better with the arm than Keith is at this point. Lance always has some kind of mathematical precision and a sharp eye about him (even if he mostly acts like a goofball) and he sketches out the arm with detail. Even his shading is decent, with all the highlights and shine he adds.

Keith goes for another try and nearly whines when he can’t get the bend in Shiro’s elbow right. He drops his pencil and leans back in his chair, groaning in annoyance.

“Drawing is fucking hard.”

There are sounds of agreement from the rest of the class, each of the students looking on the verge, working furiously on their canvas as the session nears its final hour.

“I dunno, Keith, I think I’ve got the hang of it,” Lance mumbles, multiple pencils stuck behind his ears and some of graphite smeared across his face as he adds shadowing diligently. “It’s like... the more I do it the easier it comes?”

“Lucky you. I think I’ve burned out for today,” Keith replies, looking sadly at the mess he’s made of his own drawing.

Allura makes an “aww” sound and comes over to them, Lance immediately straightening up in his seat as he sheepishly looks up at her and receives a kind smile in return. Keith thinks that it’s disgustingly cute and wonders if it’s always going to be like that from now on but who is he to judge Lance over his crush when Keith himself nearly bursts into flames every time he looks at the too hot guy of a model sitting naked a few feet away from him.

“Is there anything you need help with, Keith?” Allura asks softly, leaning over to view Keith’s drawing.

“Well, uh—“ Keith doesn’t know where to put himself as he glances over the board of his easel at Shiro. “I’m just figuring some things out.”

Shiro catches Keith’s glance and raises a questioning brow which only prompts Keith to look down and feel completely embarrassed. It gets even worse when Allura realises what stalls Keith’s work and addresses Shiro.

“Hey, is it okay to have some students come over and examine your arm?”

Shiro has been sitting perfectly still the entire time before but somehow he still manages to freeze on the spot.

“Yeah, sure,” he breathes out, lifting the prosthetic and looking down at it with a little frown. “I guess you guys have come here to study human anatomy. This thing kinda falls out of the intended course theme.”

Allura sighs. “You and your grave humour, Shiro.”

She nudges Keith to get up and have a look, with a few other students approaching Shiro, too, and he lets them have their turns in poking the arm and examining it. Keith is the last one in the small queue but once he finally gets to study the arm properly, he eventually understands what he’s kept getting wrong about it. Before he can stop himself, he plants his hand flat against Shiro’s bicep — they all seem to have the clearance to poke, after all — and feels for the strange texture underneath his palm. He tries not to think about how small his hand looks in comparison to it.

“What is your hand made from? I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

“It’s titanium and some advanced polymers and I think I’ve heard someone saying “carbon nanotubes” about it once,” Shiro says, flexing his hand. Keith sees all the delicate details move in sync as the arm makes a soft whirring sound and bends at the elbow, forming a perfect reference for Keith’s drawing. “I have no idea how the cybernetic parts work, though, too high-tech for me.”

Shiro lets Keith have a closer look at his palm — it is hard enough to draw an organic hand without making it look like an atrocity — but Keith makes himself memorise all the tiny details in Shiro’s knuckles and fingers and the way how the entire prosthetic is designed. He’s too engrossed in his task to notice Shiro staring at him, unabashedly, but once he finally looks Shiro in the eye, he completely loses it.

Keith loves painting portraits. It’s his big thing. His relaxant after a long shift full of shitty customers, his main source of expressing himself. When he’s so close to Shiro, holding his hand in his, he sees the warmth in the peculiar shade of the stormy grey of Shiro’s eyes and the length of his lashes that curl prettily at the ends. He notices that Shiro’s brows are a few shades darker than his hair and that there are little worry lines left in the creases between them. He notices that the scar across his face forms a little diamond at the nose ridge. He notices the way how Shiro is staring at him, with colour blooming on his cheeks, his eyes shining like gemstones, white hair seeming to be made of starlight.

“Wow,” Keith whispers.

Neither of them stops staring and it takes another student to pointedly cough behind Keith’s back for him to let go of Shiro’s hand and return to his seat. Lance greets him with a teasing smirk that makes Keith flush bright red.

“Not. A. Word.”

“Alright, alright,” Lance laughs, raising his hands in surrender, “but don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Keith mumbles something offensive under his breath and picks his pencil up again, this time more or less aware of how to draw a prosthetic. He glances at his model from time to time and there’s a definite shift in how Shiro sits. As if some weight has lifted from his shoulders, he no longer seems to be completely out of his comfort zone sitting almost naked in front of a dozen people. When Shiro lifts his eyes to look at Keith, there’s nothing accidental about how his lips curl at the corners as he notices Keith’s watching and the little self-satisfied grin he flashes briefly as he makes Keith crack his favourite Derwent in two by winking at him floods Keith’s entire being with waves of white-hot and primal.

 

When Allura announces the final 5 minutes of their session, Keith and Lance are done with their drawings. Lance beams at his work, satisfied, and rants to Keith about how happy he is to finally start drawing. From across the room, Allura is talking to one of the students but she watches Lance go on about his renewed passion for art with a proud smile on her lips. Keith shares the feeling and leans over to give Lance a friendly pat, both of the friends grinning at each other.

After the clock strikes 10 in the evening and Shiro finally gets his chance to dress — in a pair of dark jeans and a black jacket with white tee underneath, Keith notes as he appreciates the look — each student has Allura and Shiro checking out their work, and Lance gets the most praise, especially when he confesses he hasn’t been drawing for more than seven years by now. Allura has been encouraging towards Keith, too, but it doesn’t mean quite as much to him as it does to Lance and his friend is left beaming for the rest of the evening.

Keith watches Allura carefully from under his bangs and can’t help but notice the smile that never leaves her features when she looks at Lance. It strikes the most to Keith, especially since he has never really had a chance to watch them interact in person before — he always had to rely on Lance’s recounts. It is not like Lance is an unreliable narrator; it’s simply that with an (almost) objective eye Keith sees things that might have slipped from Lance’s attention.

When Allura and Shiro turn to Keith’s artwork, Keith tries to become invisible while waiting for their judgement, but Allura only gasps a little and Shiro lets out a “wow” that makes Keith remember his own. Other students gather around to have a look, too, and Keith doesn’t know how to function.

Shiro’s voice is unmistakably hoarse as he speaks, putting a hand on the back of Keith’s chair. “I’ve never thought I could look like that. Especially not after— not after the accident.”

“This is... This is why I wanted you to model for the classes in the first place, Shiro,” Allura says, looking at her friend with tears in her eyes, “so that you could see the beauty in yourself through someone else’s eyes.”

“Huh,” Shiro manages, still stunned as he stares at Keith’s drawing. “I uh— I don’t—“

Keith feels like he needs to do something before he explodes with emotions he can’t quite describe yet, so he takes his battered and old sketchpad and carefully rips out the page with Shiro’s painting on it. “I didn’t realise this would mean so much to you, not fully. Here,” he hands the drawing to Shiro and he accepts it, his human hand brushing against Keith’s in the lightest of touches, “I would like you to have it.”

Shiro looks down at the drawing, unreadable expression on his face. When he looks at Keith again, his eyes shine with a different kind of light. “Thank you.”

Allura straight up cries now and Lance reaches to her, tugging at her sleeve in sympathy.

The class ends soon afterwards and Keith takes his pleasure watching Lance and Allura chat together, enjoying how happy his best friend looks and the way how Allura seems to open-up to him and truly enjoy his company. Even if it is too early after the break-up Keith can’t help but let hope for them bloom inside his chest.

Keith senses someone standing by his side and turns to see Shiro, arms crossed and watching Lance and Allura, too.

“Allura is always the happiest when she gets to teach or talk about art but your friend seems to get her to smile with just a few words,” Shiro observes.

Keith has to recuperate over the fact that Shiro is  _ so tall _ , and ends up staring at the tips of his sneakers instead of answering.

“It’s Keith, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Shiro,” he extends his bionic hand for Keith and he takes it. “It’s good to finally be introduced to you while I’m not butt-naked in front of a bunch of people.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Keith shrugs. “You didn’t flash us or anything.”

Shiro covers his face, completely succumbing to bashfulness. “Oh no, I don’t even want to think about this!”

“Keith, what did you do to poor Shiro?” Lance pouts as he and Allura approach them. 

“Really, it’s nothing,” Shiro says all too quickly, his cheeks tinted with the all-familiar red again. Lance doesn’t look convinced, but he shrugs and picks up his messenger bag.

“Well, this has been fun. Allura, you need a ride?”

“Actually, Shiro was going to drive me home but— we literally live next-door,” Allura laughs. “What do you say, Shiro?”

“I’m alright if you’re alright,” Shiro replies.

“Then it’s settled!” Lance beams and hooks an arm around Allura’s. “Let’s go, princess, your limo awaits!”

“Hey loverboy, aren’t you forgetting something?” Keith makes a scene of looking utterly betrayed.

“Oh—“ Lance’s face falls. “I was supposed to get Keith home.”

“Where do you live, Keith?” Shiro asks.

“Like... the south end of the town, why?”

“If you’d like, I could drive you.”

Keith blinks, letting the words sink in. “Uh, if that’s not too inconvenient—“

“It’s not,” Shiro reassures, a gentle smile on his lips. “I live two blocks down from the Balmera Mall anyway.”


	2. all on the edge like you

“Are you guys sure you don’t want to hang out somewhere? Dinner or something?” Lance asks casually as Shiro, Keith, Allura, and he head down towards the parking lot, Lance’s cheery blue Hybrid greeting them with a happy flash of headlights as Lance unlocks the car.

Allura and Shiro both shake their heads a no. “Too tired.”

“Me too. Maybe next week?”

Lance grins and looks at Keith, who just shrugs nonchalantly in reply, well aware he is going with them in any case, so Lance clasps his hands together. “Next week it is, then.”

Allura and Lance wave Keith and Shiro their goodbye and with a roar of the engine, the Hybrid drives away.

“Show-off,” Keith sighs, and turns to Shiro, noticing the curious look he has as he watches the blue car join the traffic, though it doesn’t last long as he lets out a little huff of air and clutches a map with drawings students have gifted to him a little closer to his chest.

It is getting pretty late and the most of the students have left long before them since Allura has had to stay back and lock up her studio for the night. There’s no one at Altean Arts now but a few security guards to keep safe the expensive artwork displayed at the gallery on the first floor. Keith scans the parking lot for another car, but there’s nothing else but a beat-down mini-van, and--

“Is this ATLAS-7?” Keith asks in astonishment as Shiro’s ride turns out to be a pretty sweet hoverbike instead of a regular car Keith’s mind somehow has pictured for him. While the bike itself is white and tinted with occasional black and orange, its accent lights shine with sky blue.

“Yeah, my pride and joy,” Shiro says, patting the bike’s impressive flank. “Ever flew on one before?”

“Sure. I’ve got a hoverbike, too—“ Keith stops mid-sentence and finishes on a more awkward tone, “though it is busted.”

“Oh? That’s a shame, what’s wrong with it?” Shiro asks as he hands Keith a spare helmet and fumbles with getting the map into a storage compartment without bending it on accident.

“Um—Long story short, some essential engine parts are cracked and I can’t get a replacement because my bike is pretty old and they do not produce those anymore,” Keith explains, putting the helmet on and climbing on the bike behind Shiro, not sure where he can put his hands since the moment they start flying Keith either falls off or has to hold onto Shiro – and he doesn’t quite know how to process touching that man while knowing exactly how he looks like underneath all that clothing. As if sensing Keith’s distress, Shiro’s chuckle is nothing short of amused as he starts the engine and with a mighty roar the bike takes off.

Shiro likes his flying fast and Keith clings to him with a startled yelp, all his previous concerns quenched by instinct, his arms wrapping tightly around the other man’s waist as Shiro expertly navigates them through the late evening traffic jam. The town becomes a blur of lights and forms as they fly through its streets, Shiro dancing on the fine line between breaking speed limits and driving safely, and Keith laughs, his entire being revelling in the speed and wind and colour.

When they reach and pass the Balmera Mall, a distinctive south district landmark, Keith has to shout directions over the wind, basically back-seat driving the rest of the way to Keith’s apartment complex.Once they stop and climb off the bike, Keith notices Shiro is outright grinning beneath his helmet’s visor.

“What?” Keith asks after struggling with his stubborn helmet and handing it back to Shiro.

“See that building over there?”  Shiro points at the tall structure that looms over the rest and effectively blocks the sun in Keith’s apartment on summer evenings.

“Yeah?”

“I live there!”

Keith snorts. “This is one hell of a small town.”

Shiro grows quiet, fumbling with the little belts of his helmet before he takes it off. The tuff of starlight-white hair sticks to his forehead and he runs his human hand through it, Keith watching the motion with eyes quick to memorise and tuck the scene away for future sketching. It’s just a habit, he tells himself, but deep down he knows he’s developing a crush.

“Look, Keith, about today—“ Shiro begins, and Keith is suddenly very aware that he’s been ogling Shiro the entire session and now is probably going to get his ass kicked over it— but Shiro has his brows knit together in concern as he turns to face Keith. “May I ask you something? I really need an honest opinion of someone who isn’t Allura.”

“Sure, ask away,” Keith says carefully.

Shiro takes a deep breath and exhales in a sharp “Did I fuck up?”, and there’s a distinctive look of a sad puppy about him that leaves Keith pretty much dumbfolded.

 “What?”

“Did I fuck up the whole,” Shiro gestures vaguely, the bionic arm whirring, “modelling thing? I know how much this course means to Allura – it’s her first one independent from her father and she’s asked me to help her and I just—“

“You don’t want to screw up. I get it,” Shiro nods a little helplessly. “Well, I think you did good. I mean, you sat patiently, didn’t change the pose or anything, endured the entire uhh—“ Keith seeks the right words for a moment, “modelling for the first time in your life thing. I mean, look at Lance. He can’t draw traditional art much, he has his knack for cartoon or illustration even, but the next thing I know he has produced a full render of a human body in literally three hours. That’s fucking epic. So,” Keith looks Shiro dead in the eye, assured and determined, “don’t ever doubt or think you didn’t help Lance or any of the other students today. You and Allura make a great team, and I think we all have enjoyed today’s class.”

Shiro is silent for a very long moment, and Keith wonders if he’s said something completely wrong. The silence stretches between them and Keith’s incredibly advanced social skills yell at him to say his goodbye and disappear into his apartment before he does anything stupid again.

“I enjoyed today, too,” Shiro admits slowly, as if accepting it hasn’t been all that bad is a surprise to him just as much as receiving a positive feedback from one of the students. “Thank you, Keith.”

“Anytime,” Keith smiles. The silence between them is different now, awkwardness seeping into Keith’s body, right where his frustration has been residing ever since he’s seen Shiro strip down for them, and all of it is tying his tongue, thoughts all a scramble as the reckless side of him suggests asking Shiro to come up with him but he looks at Shiro from under his lashes and thinks a man like that wouldn’t want someone like Keith.

Instead, he checks his phone, frustrated by his thoughts and sudden needs that he hasn’t had in years. All he should be wanting is a hot meal and a warm blanket to curl under, not to trace kisses over every scar on Shiro’s body and worship him in ways a drawing cannot.

Shiro opens his mouth to say something but thinks better of it, and puts his helmet back on. “I should probably get going,” he says, “See you around, Keith.”

“See ya.”

Keith watches Shiro climb back on the bike and start it, the engine revving once again and Keith can’t help but admire the slick, thick lines of both it and its rider. With a final wave of his hand, Shiro speeds up into the night, and Keith is left wondering why he regrets him leaving so much.

 

* * *

 

Keith groans once after a quick dinner, a shower, and a bit of preparing his backpack for his work tomorrow he finally climbs under the covers, stretching on his bed and feeling the heavy press of exhaustion over his limbs. The events of the day flash before his eyes, though the image of Shiro stands out the brightest. Of all the things that ever happened to Keith, getting a crush from the first sight is a completely new experience, and there’s oddness fluttering beneath Keith’s ribcage at every recollection of the scarred man.

He doesn’t even know if he’ll ever see Shiro again.

The guitar chords of “Shattered” by Trading Yesterday interrupt his lamentations and Keith knocks a book off his dilapidated nightstand as he reaches for his phone.

It’s a video call from Lance and Keith bothers to turn on the lamp light.

“Hey man,” he murmurs. “How’d it go with Allura?”

Lance is in bed, too, his hair wet after shower and sticking in every direction, but he is beaming, eyes sparkling even through the shitty feed. Keith gets a vague thrill of inspiration and tucks the memory of Lance’s expression away – it’s been forever since he’s drawn him in any case.

“Keith... I love her so much,” Lance says, voice thick with emotion. “The more I get to spend time with her the more I realise that.”

“So it went well?”

“Yeah, absolutely. We drove home then ended up chatting in the hallway for so long she invited me over for some snacks.”

“Ooh—“

“Shut up, not like _that_!”

“Look at you, Lance, you’re finally growing up,” Keith teases.

“Haha, Keith, I am only ten months younger than you,” Lance replies and turns to the side, face half-hidden in his pillow. “Honestly, though, I’ve never met anyone like Allura before. She’s charming and talented and beautiful and kind and today she’s been so awesome at teaching and how am I even supposed to—“ Lance halts, burying his face deeper into the pillow, and lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a sob.

“Lance?” Keith sits up in his bed, staring worriedly at his phone screen. Another muffled sob rasps through the dynamic. “Man, are you crying?”

“...Yes.”

“Oh. Is it that bad?”

“I love her so much, Keith.”

Keith sighs and falls back into his pillow. “I can see that you really do.” It takes Lance a few minutes to calm down, Keith ends up telling him silly Internet stories to keep his friend grounded, and eventually Lance shows his tear-stained face once again.

“Thanks, buddy.”

“Anytime, Lance.”

They talk a little about the class and eventually the topic shifts to Shiro. “And how did your trip home with your most favourite model ever go?” Lance asks with a mischievous smirk on his lips.

Keith glances through the window at the dark silhouette of Shiro’s building looming in the distance and wonders briefly which of the windows are his.

“Not bad. He seems like a nice guy.”

“ “Seems like a nice guy”? Keith, he’d given you a semi right in front of everyone, and you’re just calling him “a nice guy”? Did you at least ask for his number? Please tell me you’ve asked for his number, Keith.”

Keith bristles. “No, nothing like that happened—“

“And the man himself wasn’t able to look away from you _the entire time_. I mean, I was there, I’ve seen everything with my own two eyes!”

“You’re obviously exaggerating. Nothing like that happened.”

“Oh my god, Keith, you’re killing me.”

“Besides, you’re awfully cocky for someone who’s been drooling all over Allura well before I’ve ever laid my eyes on Shiro—“

“Aha! So you do like the guy!” Lance grins, broad and sparkling white. “By the way, he’s single, gay, Pisces, has a cat—“

Keith’s palm collides with his face with a distinctive smack. “Lance, did you ask Allura about Shiro?”

“Maybe...”

“Oh my God.”

“What? She’s okay with it!”

“There’s nothing to be okay with—No, Lance, please don’t drag Shiro into this,” Keith sighs, rubbing at his eyes. “Let’s just focus on you and Allura, okay?”

“As you wish,” Lance says, still looking like he doesn’t buy it.

 

* * *

 

Keith has been busy at work for almost the entire week safe for Tuesday he’s spent in Lance’s company, the boys hanging out at park and bathing in the sunlight and warmth of the last few days before the end of August and talking about what to expect on their art class this Thursday. Lance eventually shares his fears he isn’t good enough with his art to keep up with the class, let alone Keith. It somehow has made Keith spring to his feet and show Lance his own sketchbook, exposing all the shitty drawings he does even still and explaining that feeling like that is normal as long as one doesn’t give up drawing at all.

And now, on his morning Thursday shift his manager still squeezed into Keith’s schedule even after being asked to keep his Thursdays free because he is having classes, Keith half-listens to his work buddy and partner in crime Pidge yell at an idiot of a customer who tried to ask for a refund for an item he bought from a completely different store network, and contemplates how to boost Lance’s drawing morale while not being too obvious about it.

With her cheeks still red with anger, Pidge returns to her working station and glares at every customer who comes in close vicinity of her. Tiny and short, she is a force to be reckoned with, and Keith took a liking of her from day one. They work together most of the shifts, both quick with scanning and processing purchases, and Keith has never even quite bothered to become friendly with anyone else of his co-workers.

Keith had been working odd jobs here and there since he turned eighteen, trying to stay afloat while paying rent and for college, but eventually had to drop out of his studies. Ever since his father died, Keith’s life had been going downhill. If it wasn’t for Lance’s friendship, Keith doesn’t know where he would’ve been now.

“Kogane, break time,” Keith’s manager drops buy, not bothering to sound pleasant, and Keith asks the last customer at his line to hold the“closed register” sign as Keith quickly rings out the items. Pidge is arguing with a customer again, for trying to cheat her with coins from another country, and Keith sighs sympathetically. Once he serves the last customer, handing them their change with a forced smile, he quickly cleans his working place and is about to leave when he spots a familiar white undercut and stares at Shiro with his eyes wide. Shiro notices Keith and freezes on the spot, too, clearly surprised and standing in the way of other customers, clutching a bottle of water in his hands. Keith doesn’t even want to consider how good Shiro looks in casual wear, and shuts his developing feelings up just like he has been doing ever since meeting him.

The lines to other registers – even to self-checkouts –are considerable and Shiro smiles sheepishly at Keith. Keith rolls his eyes and motions him to come over as he punches his code back into the register. Shiro beams and says his hello—and then hiccups.

“Oh,” he mumbles awkwardly, covering his mouth. Keith chuckles as he rings out the bottle.

“Are you hiccupping?”

Shiro does it again as he palms his pockets in search for wallet. “Yeah, I’m so- _hic_ – I am so sorry.”

Keith just leans back a little, watching Shiro count out the coins and trying to hold back the hiccupping fit.

“You know you could drink the water first and pay for it later, right?”

“I’d rather pay first,” Shiro nearly whines as he realises he’s a few coins short to cover his total and has to search for his bank card, all the while hiccupping again and again.

“Oh my god, just drink the water already,” Keith says, opening the bottle and shoving it into Shiro. The man finally agrees and gulps at it greedily.

Pidge turns over to them and grins, “Oh, hi, Shiro!”

“Pidge!” Shiro smiles at her, finally finding his card and paying. “How are you doing?”

“Wonderful, I hate this place,” Pidge says, turning away from her customer to fist bump with Shiro and earns glares from her entire line.

“You guys know each other?” Keith asks, somehow not surprised at all.

“Shiro here is my brother’s BFF,” Pidge explains, then pouts, “Wait, how do _you_ know Shiro?”

“I’ve drawn him naked this one time at an art class,” Keith says and Shiro goes full red, nearly spurting water all over and Pidge hollers. Her customers begin to grow vocal in their annoyance and Pidge goes back to scanning, completely unbothered.

“Oh I gotta tell Matt,” Pidge says through her laughter.

Shiro groans. “He’s going to love it.”

Keith, amused, leaves his working station and is about to say bye to Shiro and dash to his lunch but Shiro stops him before Keith opens his mouth to speak. “Are you going to Allura’s class today? I know she’s prepared something interesting for you guys,” Shiro says, nursing the half-empty bottle of water in his hands.

Is he trying to make small talk?

“Sure, my shift ends like at five so I have plenty of time getting there. No way I’m not going, anyway,” Keith says, then can’t help but ask with a teasing grin, “Wait, are you posing again?”

Shiro can blush all the way to his neck and ears, apparently. “No, not today. Spoiler though: the model will be a girl.”

“Oh?” Keith can’t help but let his shoulders drop a little. Somehow, he wouldn’t have minded drawing Shiro again. Shiro wants to say something else, but Keith’s manager yells at him from a distance.

“Kogane, why are you still here? Your lunch time is ticking!”

“Ugh, sorry, gotta go or starve.”

“Sure,” Shiro nods, sending a little glare the manager’s way. “See you around.”

“BYE SHIRO,” Pidge yells and Keith laughs.

 

* * *

 

Lance is all dressed up in a pretty white shirt and a faux leather jacket and close-fitting jeans and Keith sighs a little as he picks Keith up to drive to Altean Arts later that day. Keith still can’t forgive Lance for not telling him the class has been moved an hour back, and is content to brood over the barely started lunch he has had to leave behind.

“You can say goodbye to this shirt the moment you start drawing,” Keith points out but Lance just shrugs.

“I just wanted to look presentable.”

“Dude, you’re gonna draw. Drawing is messy. Didn’t you tell me you've brought charcoal sticks today? Charcoal will be all over your pristine white shirt in seconds.”

“At least I look handsome as fuck in it. Besides, you do remember we’re going out with Allura and Shiro tonight, right?” Lance says with a bit of judgement in his voice as he gives Keith the once-over while still keeping one eye on the road.

“Wait, we are?”

“Keith, stop killing me,” Lance groans. “You’ve forgotten, haven’t you? Because you totally look like you have.”

Keith bristles, putting a protective hand on his favourite, if old, red tee. Maybe it looks plain against Lance’s brand clothing – at least Keith has no worry for his outfit if it gets messy during the class.

Lance is still pouting at Keith and his old ripped jeans as they make their way to Allura’s studio, the most of the students already there, though his expression immediately lights up the moment he spots Allura amongst them. She looks fresh and regal in a simple pale pink dress that hugs her figure and complements her strong build, and she greets them with a bright smile on her face.

“Keith! Lance!”

“Hi, Allura,” Keith nods, and has to elbow awed Lance to stop him from lagging over her.

“Allura! You look—“ Lance, for once, is at a loss for words, staring wide-eyed as Allura smoothes her dress down a little nervously, “absolutely stunning,” Lance finally manages to squeak out.

“Thank you, Lance, that’s— very sweet of you to say,” she murmurs sheepishly.

Keith calls the whole interaction a good sign but can’t help but nudge Lance and ask in a hushed tone “What the hell was that?” as they make it to their seats.

Lance just makes big sad eyes in reply as he pulls out his supplies and props his sketchpad against the easel. As he flips through his pad for a blank page, Keith notices a few new sketches, but the look Lance gives them is anything but satisfied, the corners of his mouth turned downwards. Keith doesn’t address this but makes a mental note to drill some confidence into Lance about his art later.

Allura begins her class soon afterwards, starting it with some theory, explaining how to build a proportional body and showing all the tricks by drawing on a tablet, a holographic image of her screen being projected real-time on one of the studio’s walls. After, she shows how the Renaissance painters used essentially similar techniques the modern artists apply, and Keith cheers internally every time he spots anything Da Vinci.

The time flies fast for Keith as he listens to Allura, keeping attention to all the new things for him, and the next thing he knows half the class has already passed and Allura is introducing a petit, lean woman in her late 20s – Nyma – and the second half of their class is filled with applying the theoretical knowledge in practice as their task is to make quick 15-minute sketches of each pose Nyma shows.

Allura makes sure to divide her attention between all of the students and is patient, explaining things that bring the most confusion and often uses her tablet to show her own examples of how to get around this or that pose. There’s a distinctive frown in Lance’s expression as he tries to keep up with the speed of their task, and even with Keith’s help he doesn’t get much done in time. Last week, he has had whole three hours to draw calmly and at his own pace, and with the lack of experience and only three weeks of renewed practice, it’s pretty hard to get anything right. Keith feels for his friend, but keeps helping him, and assures him no one will mind if Lance finishes his sketches later.

Without Shiro, Allura ends up spending both of the breaks chatting with Keith and Lance, and Keith suddenly realises he likes Allura. She’s determined, witty, and doesn’t mind if Keith ends up sounding off-beat or reserved, and makes sure he feels comfortable and included, instead. Her qualities work well together with Lance’s chatty and easy-going nature, Keith relaxes enough to enjoy their talks and ends up laughing together with them.

At some moment during the second break, Lance brings up deciding where do they want to go after the class and Allura beams.

“I thought you’ve forgotten about it!”

“How could I?” Lance says, so much smoother than when he’s first seen Allura today.

Keith is not amused as Lance shoots him a dirty look. “Haha, you’re so funny today, Lance.”

“What can I say – I have perfect memory, unlike some individuals present—“Keith narrows his eyes at his friend in warning, but Lance just laughs it off.

Allura has to hide her giggling as she calls Shiro and puts him on speaker so that they all can decide on where to go later. Keith feels like an idiot when even Shiro says he hasn’t forgotten about their plan to hang out together, and earns his fix of friendly teasing from Allura and Lance.

There is this much of places that are open after nine and it slowly dawns upon Keith that Allura moved the lecture so that they could actually go somewhere that isn’t a bar and still have some time to eat. Lance insists on having dinner at a restaurant a few blocks down from Altean Arts, Allura suggests a sweet cafe with the most delightful selection of cakes in town, Shiro advertises a place his friend Hunk works as a chef at, and Keith just puts up an option of simply getting some pizza. As it turns out, all four are incredibly stubborn and refuse to give up their suggestions in favour of one, and they end up deciding to draw straws once Shiro arrives at the studio.

Shiro has promised to be there around the time of class’ end but shows up 20 minutes early instead, dressed illegally hot in black pants with a narrow belt and a black shirt that looks like it is made of silk, and a pair of simple black boots.

Keith sinks in his chair as he watches Shiro give Allura a quick peck on the cheek and make his way to where Lance and he are sitting, nodding to them in greetings.

“Hi, Shiro,” Lance grins as the man picks up an unoccupied chair and settles it down behind the two friends, looking genuinely interested in what they are drawing. Keith is too busy not to let himself think that even Shiro’s cologne is attractive, and focuses on the new pose Nyma assumes.

They work quietly for a while until Shiro leans closer to have a better look at how Keith and Lance work on their sketches and whistles quietly. “You guys are so lucky to be able to draw so well.”

Lance turns around, cheeks a little flushed. “You think we draw well? Like, both of us?”

“Of course the both of you,” Shiro reassures him as if it is a fact out of the question.

Lance’s flush gains a little more colour, and Keith mentally thanks Shiro for it. Lance’s tendency for self-doubt is getting worse now that he’s dedicated himself to winning Allura’s heart and every little word of encouragement helps.

Once the session finally ends with Allura smiling wickedly as she asks her students to bring up to five drawings of poses for their next class and everyone begins to leave, Keith can’t help to let out a little sigh of relief as Shiro gets up and helps Allura with cleaning up the studio. He could feel Shiro’s close presence with every inch of his skin, well aware that his crush hasn’t left as he’s hoped it will if he’d ignore it hard enough, and it makes him annoyed. He should be focusing on Lance and Allura instead of pining after Allura’s friend, and Keith settles on shoving his infatuation deep down in favour of being a good friend to Lance and supporting him as much as he can.

As Allura makes sure to lock the studio up and once again they make their way past the guard post and to the parking lot, Lance fishes out a bunch of straws Allura has liberated from one of the artsy flower arrangements that decorate the halls of Altean Arts, they each draw one.

After a few moments of comparing, Lance looks so utterly confused when Shiro is announced as the winner, Keith can’t help but have a brow raised in judgement as he pokes Lance’s bicep.

“Were you trying to cheat, Lance?”

“Ow, what, no! I’d never- Why did I mess up the straws—“ Lance frowns at the offending piece in his hand and stares at the one in Shiro’s. Allura fights back giggles and even Shiro makes a face but it doesn’t change the fact that they are going to Shiro’s place of choosing.

Since Shiro has taken a bus and Allura’s uncle has dropped her by before, Lance assumes the mantle of the designated driver and Allura calls shotgun before anyone else. Keith ends up joining Shiro in the back of Lance’s Hybrid.

He immediately makes himself as small as possible, trying to put as much distance between himself and Shiro as he can with all the little space he’s given to begin with but it still doesn’t stop the supernatural feeling of warmth radiating from the man to find its way under Keith’s skin. Every movement, every breath Shiro makes echo within Keith, and the kind smile Shiro gives him as they all finally settle down in the car makes Keith look away all too quickly.

“Alright, what’s the name of the place again, Shiro?” Lance asks as he taps his GPS system.

““The Lion’s Diner”,” Shiro says and Allura helps Lance find it on the map.

“Buckle up, everybody, we’ll be there in no time. You guys comfy back there?” Lance grins, his eyes amused as he spies obviously flustered Keith in his back view mirror. Keith only sticks his tongue out at his friend and earns a boom of laughter from him in return, Shiro watching the entire interaction with brows raised high.

 

* * *

 

“Well, now I definitely feel underdressed,” Keith muses as the place Shiro has picked turns out to be a classy restaurant with love apparent in every detail from decorum in the main hall to the impressive menu list, and his old shirt and ripped jeans look like a disgrace in comparison to the spot-on outfits of his companions, let alone to the rest of the people eating there. Allura and Lance are already busy debating which table to choose, and it is Shiro who overhears Keith’s quiet words.

“Why would you say that?” he asks, frowning a little. “You look nice.”

Keith snorts. “Yeah, right.”

“Keith, you look good,” Shiro repeats, a little more fire to his voice. “ _Especially_ good for someone who worked a shift and sat through a class afterwards.”

Lance turns back to them and makes a naughty face. “I’m surprised no one kicked Keith out for looking like a hobo—“

“Lance!” Allura slaps him on the head lightly. “That’s not a nice thing to say to your friend!”

“Keith looks nothing like that!” Shiro jumps to the defence, too, and Lance completely submits under the pressure of being team-tagged by Allura and Shiro.

Keith laughs at Lance’s pouty face and says, “But he’s right! I forgot we were going out.”

“We’re glad you’ve come, Keith, and if anyone tries anything they’re getting _rekt,_ ” Allura says with the sweetest, creepiest smile Keith has ever seen on her, and believes her every word.

Once the group finally sits down in the little cosy booth near one of the largest windows and Keith has a little panic attack over sitting opposite of Shiro with literally no room to run but to bury his nose deep into the menu, they are greeted by a cheery waiter who looks crisply fresh even in two hours before closing. Shiro asks them if Hunk is still at work, and a minute later the man in question is grinning from ear to ear as he gives Shiro a tight hug.

“Boy, it is good to see you, Shiro!” Hunk leans over Shiro’s shoulder and waves at Allura. “Hi, girl, how are you?”

“Hello, Hunk,” she grins and sends him a kiss. The chef brightens up even more and releases Shiro, leaving him to rub his shoulders sheepishly after the bone-crushing hug.

Hunk then notices Lance and Keith. “Oh, are you guys having a double date? Should we bring some candles, you know, to set the mood?”

Lance is about to say yes, Keith just knows by the look on him, so he covers his mouth before he says anything and smiles as politely as he can. “Nope, we’re just having dinner.”

“Actually, I’ve this whole idea of introducing Lance and Keith to your cooking,” Shiro says, “but uh—“ Shiro looks at Hunk’s casual clothing instead of the chef uniform. “I guess we’ve missed your shift?”

“No worries, Shiro, I’ve got you,” Hunk asks one of the waiters for a piece of paper and quickly scribbles down their orders.

“Hunk, you don’t have to stay back because of us—“ Allura looks concerned just as much as Shiro.

Hunk laughs and waves their worried faces off. “You are my friends - if you want my cooking, you’re getting it.”

 

Keith moans at the first bite of his steak with béarnaise sauce, and Lance says praises to his saffron and courgette pasta, both Allura and Shiro watching them eat with looks of pride over converting new people into the cult of Hunk’s cooking. Hunk shows up later, this time to receive the heated compliments from Lance and Keith and when it is his time to say good-bye, there are little happy tears hidden in the corners of his eyes.

There is still about an hour before the diner closes for the night, and Keith feels warm and a lot more relaxed as he listens to Lance describe his bank job in vivid, exaggerated words, Allura laughing at his jokes and Shiro watching them with his bionic palm under his chin and an entertained smile on his lips. He is glancing at Keith from time to time, and somehow they end up talking with small gestures and little quirks of their brows – there’s simply no chance to get a word out in-between Lance’s non-stop chatter.

Lance is absolutely charmed by Allura, and it shows in every little gesture he makes, and Keith ends up groaning into his drink a couple of times to hide his second hand embarrassment. Allura isn’t helping, Keith notes, and there’s a faint blush across her dark cheeks and her eyes sparkle with humour as she counters every of Lance’s lines with something witty of her own.After a while, Keith can’t take any more of their borderline flirting and gets up to find something stronger to drink—only to have Shiro promptly follow him, as well.

“They are a bit— overwhelming,” Shiro admits once they are out of their friends’ earshot and climb into two bar stools with pretty decorative engravings.

“Lance certainly is,” Keith replies after he considers the alcohol available and orders two shots of whiskey. “Allura is much more well-mannered than he is.”

There’s a little line between Shiro’s brows again as he twists to looks back at their table, Lance and Allura chatting and giggling away just as they have before.

“God, look at them,” Keith says over his shot of whiskey, “they didn’t even notice we’ve left. It’s sickening.”

Shiro picks the second glass and stirs the amber liquid briefly before downing it in one go. “I’ve never third-wheeled so much in my life before.” Keith chokes lightly on his drink at his words and Shiro looks at him in concern.

“What makes you say that?”

“I mean, Lance has a crush on Allura, it’s obvious to anyone but Allura.”

Keith chokes even more and Shiro has to pat him on the back to stop the coughing fit, and Keith can only rasp, “And are you okay with that? I mean, you’re Allura’s friend and all—“

Shiro cocks his head to the side in contemplation. “Well, as far as I can tell, Allura likes Lance back, so why the hell I wouldn’t approve?”

“I mean, she’s just broke up with what’s his name, and Lance is already trying to get her attention—”

“What are you talking about?” Shiro asks, frowning. Keith doesn’t even mind sitting so close to him anymore, their thighs brushing. Every flutter of his crush on him is dwarfed by the realisation slowly downing on Keith. Now, he just needs Shiro to confirm it.

“Allura and Lotor, they broke up like... about a month ago or so, right?”

Shiro’s brows disappear under his white bangs. “Keith, they broke up on this St. Valentine’s.”

Keith nearly falls off the stool as he turns and stares with his eyes wide, a whole new perspective on the way how Allura answers Lance’s flirting settling over him.

“But... Lance told me...”

Shiro twists in his seat, too. “It’s been eight months, Keith. We are definitely third-wheeling right now.”

“Oh my god,” Keith says, and turns to the bartender to ask for another shot.

“Make it two, and make it double,” Shiro adds.

 

* * *

 

By 11 “The Lion’s Diner” is closed, and Keith finds himself freezing outside in his plain tee, while Allura has Lance throw his jacket around her shoulders in a classic gesture. Even Shiro has a long-sleeved shirt, and Keith can’t help but hurry everyone up before he freezes his ass off.

“Aw, Keith is cold again,” Lance pouts teasingly.

“I’m _always_ cold, thank you very much,” Keith counters as Lance finally unlocks the car and he slips inside.

Allura grins from the front seat as their designated driver starts the engine. “Lance told me you grew up in a desert, Keith.”

“Yeah?”

“Aren’t the nights there cold, too?”

Shiro climbs into his seat by Keith’s side and, for once, he doesn’t scurry away. “It’s a different kind of cold. In the desert it’s still a dry cold. Here? It’s so humid I can feel it seep into my bones.”

Lance groans. “Don’t mind Keith, he gets like that when he’s drunk.”

“I’m not drunk—“ he remembers all the whiskey he’s had with Shiro. “I’m just tipsy.”

Allura is laughing in earnest. “I like drunk Keith. You’re a lot more talkative.”

“Thanks!” Keith beams, too.

“Who are you and what have you done with my friend?” Lance asks as the Hybrid joins the traffic, everyone laughing. Keith feels the warmth settle in the empty corners of him, and doesn’t mind Shiro’s hand clasping his upper arm, also a bit tipsy, with eyes sparkling and kind as he looks at Keith and once again, the time stops and Keith is swimming in wonder of Shiro. 

The ride to the south district takes a while, but Lance and Allura climb out of the car after Shiro and Keith, too, so that they can give their proper good-byes. They are standing together under the yellow light of a lamp post, and Keith  is hugging Lance tightly, grinning and thanking him for the good day, and Allura and Shiro hug, too, Shiro teasing Allura with something quietly that makes her blush brightly and shove him in the chest. Afterwards, she turns to Keith and gives him a peck on the cheek that leaves him flustered, and Lance shakes hands with Shiro, a bit startled by the bionic hand but taking it anyway.

“This was so much fun,” Lance says, “we definitely should hang out more.” Shiro and Keith exchange a look before agreeing that they had “tons of fun”, too. “And also leave special notes and reminders for Keith, just in case.”

“Hey—“

Keith is about to reciprocate but Allura catches him and Shiro in a final good-bye hug  and then the blue Hybrid is driving away, leaving Keith and Shiro alone at the premises of Shiro’s building.

“Do you think there’s a chance for Allura and Lance to get together? Like, on their own?” Shiro asks him as the echoes of their friends’ voices still ring in their ears.

“Knowing Lance... I can’t really tell. He’s so in love with Allura and so afraid to screw up and end up losing her as his friend, too... I mean, this whole art class deal?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s like a booster for Lance to have more common ground with Allura so that, quote, he has the time to work his charm on Allura, end quote.”

Shiro snorts at Keith’s way of putting it. “And here I thought you guys were there for the art.” Keith’s protests are bleak, so Shiro continues, sparks of laughter in his eyes hidden beneath the long lashes. “Knowing Allura, though, they might end up pining for each other for years before she even considers the possibility she can do something about it.”

“So basically, they both need help.”

“Yeah.”

They look each other in the eye, the full responsibility of being best friends with two pining idiots dawning upon them.

“...Shit. We gotta help them.”

“No one else will.”

“We need a plan, ASAP. The one I have with Lance might take forever.”

“Right. No more third-wheeling.” Shiro fumbles through his pockets and takes out his phone, bright screen lighting his features in sharp light. “Can I add you on Facebook?”

“Sure,” Keith helps Shiro find him, and his own phone goes off with a notification sound in his backpack. “We’ll think it over the week and share the ideas so that by the next art class we’ll have a way to make Allura and Lance just—”

“...do something. Anything.”

They grin at each other, both tipsy but proud to have found an ally in each other in these trying times. Keith laughs merrily and stares up at the tall building, nearly tipping over.

Shiro’s eyes are on the open expanse of his throat but he doesn’t mind. He shouldn’t mind. Shiro is Allura’s friend, and Keith is Lance’s. He doesn’t want to mess up, he doesn’t want it affecting Lance’s chances with the girl he loves. It is as simple as that.

“Do you want to come up?” Keith hears Shiro say and his heart jumps into his throat.

“Come up?” he looks at Shiro, not sure if he’s heard him right, but his gaze gets caught in those few damn buttons Shiro’s left open, teasing a sliver of skin and muscle underneath the black shirt, and Shiro is fumbling for words.

“I- I’m sorry, I meant—We could hang out a bit, play video games or— I didn’t mean to suggest—shit, I’m bad at this.”

Despite himself, Keith entertains the offer and looks up again before replying. “Actually, I’d like to, but--“

“But?”

“I have to work tomorrow.”

“Oh, right. Of course.” Shiro rubs at the back of his neck, searching for words. “Maybe some other time?”

“Sounds good to me.”

The alcohol flowing through Keith’s veins demands some kind of reckless action, it always does, and that’s one of the reasons Keith doesn’t like drinking much, but Shiro’s lips look so soft and welcoming—

Keith catches himself on time before he goes for it. Lance and Allura, he reminds himself, but Shiro doesn’t make a move to walk away, and there are words on the tip of Shiro’s tongue he can’t seem to voice. Or maybe it’s the ghost of a kiss they could have shared if Keith has been brave enough.

“I should go home and sleep the whiskey off,” Keith finally says, hugging himself as he feels the night chill creep into his body again.

“Me, too,” Shiro smiles and offers Keith his bionic hand. Keith clasps it tightly in his and wonders how it is just as warm as a real hand would have been. They part ways, regret for the missed opportunity hovering in the air, and Keith readjusts his backpack for the short trek to his own home.

Later that night, there are two new notifications on Keith’s Facebook – Allura asking to be his friend, and a message from Shiro, wishing a good night. Keith accepts Allura’s request and types a “good night to you too” to Shiro, and falls asleep staring at Shiro’s profile picture smiling back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it took me a while but yay, this chapter is a go! i love them, they all are so oblivious.  
> come chat with me on [tumblr](https://voidslantern.tumblr.com) :)


	3. thrilled to fantasy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please mind the updated tags. this chapter is in Allura's POV and gives an insight on her relationship with Lotor but please be careful since it touches themes of drug addiction and abuse.

The apartment is quiet and sunlit, filled with the aroma of freshly baked pancakes with just a hint of vanilla flavouring. After cleaning up the place and feeding the mice, Allura stretches her muscles with a few exercises before changing into her outfit for the day. Her wandering thoughts are cut into an abrupt stop the moment she hears her phone go off with a message notification sound. Hesitant, she approaches the table she’s left it on and there’s a lump in her throat as she checks the screen. Another gibberish text from Lotor. She dismisses it without reading.

 

* * *

 

It is the first Monday of September, weather still warm despite the chillness that settles over the town at night. As Allura locks the apartment up, she almost anticipates the usual bright morning greetings of Lance’s – they leave for work around the same time and tend to bump into each other in the hallway – but today it is quiet, and Allura misses Lance so much on her way to the bus stop she can’t help but text him a good morning. He replies a minute later.

                L: _Morning, Princess :)_

L: _How are you on this fine day of Mon?_

Allura contemplates which of the laughing emoji to send and settles for the one with tears in the corners of its eyes.

                A: _Mondays are always tough but at least my bus has arrived on time._

A: _How are you?_

L: _Wonderful!_

He sends Allura a selfie with a mountain of paperwork towering on the desk behind him. They chat a little over Facebook as the bus makes its way from the suburbs to the city centre, Allura sharing some of the sketches she did over the weekend and Lance is quick to compliment her work, his words making her feel warm and welcome. Some times she isn’t even sure if he’s talking only about her drawings and her cheeks heat up a little at the thought despite her quickly dismissing it.

Her good mood is ruined almost instantly the moment her phone goes off with yet another set of nonsense messages from Lotor. She replies without reading.

                A: _For the last time, Lotor. STOP TEXTING ME._

Another text, more symbols than misspelled words.

                A: _I wasn’t joking when I’ve said I’ll block your number if you keep up like this._

Another keysmash.

There’s a pang of raw pain inside Allura’s chest where once affection for Lotor bloomed, but she’s resolute as she checks the boxes to block both messages and calls from Lotor’s number. He had been good and attentive once, and they had something special forming between them in their shared interests and views of the world. It was all gone in a snap of fingers the moment Lotor’s abusive family had broken him all the rest of the way down. There was nothing Allura could do to help – Lotor’s suffering turned and twisted him into a completely different person. Where kindness and curiosity once bloomed now aggression and penchant for addiction resides.

Allura had spent an entire year wrecking herself, trying to reach out to Lotor, to guide him back into the light, begging him to seek help. But Lotor had made his choice, drugs being his new love, Allura pushed away and forgotten.

It killed her. It killed her to have to abandon Lotor when he was the one in dire need of help but his addiction made him violent with not only his razor-sharp words – one night he’d hit Allura across the face when she desperately tried to stop him from taking another dose. It had been the final straw, months of fruitless fighting for the man she once admired, months of verbal and now physical abuse wrecking through Allura’s entire being as she stared and stared and stared at Lotor, and could no longer understand why she allowed any of it happen. Why had she been so blind, not seeing where it would lead, why it took a slap across the face that made her spitting blood out to realize the Lotor she knew once is gone.

She kicked Lotor out that night, not caring for his slurred apologies and begging hands.

No amount of make-up could conceal the bruises. When Allura’s father and Uncle Coran had found out, they were livid. They'd found Lotor in one of the drug dens and made perfectly clear how _unwelcome_ he was in their family, let alone anywhere near Allura.

It was Allura’s personal form of hell. She’d been avoiding everyone but Shiro and her family for at least a month, and had been crying herself to sleep for nearly every night for two. Only in the past few months Allura has begun to feel alive again. Her artwork and Shiro’s never-ending support have made her old self resurface. She finally has enough courage to teach an art class, and it is turning out to be even more of a delight than she has ever anticipated.

The bus arrives at Allura’s stop and she climbs out, subtly wiping the tears and hoping she hasn’t ruined her mascara. She takes a few calming breaths before marching toward Altean Arts, and is as polite as ever to the guards and a few of her colleagues she meets on the way to her father’s office. Allura makes herself smile as brightly as ever as she kisses Alfor’s cheek in greetings, but her dad’s eyes are full of worry nonetheless.

“What happened, sweetheart?” he asks, watching his daughter with the kind of weariness that makes anxiety pang through her veins.

“Nothing, Dad,” she says cheerfully and asks if he wants some coffee as she turns on the kettle and prepares two mugs, absentmindedly dusting the counter and fixing up a few plants decorating it.

“Is it Lotor again?” Alfor gets up from his chair and walks over to where Allura is standing, and there’s nothing she can do to stop herself from trembling at the mention of her ex’s name.

“Yes,” she manages. “I think he’s high again, so he’s texting me with nonsense and he’s been making random calls throughout the weekend, too. I—I couldn’t take it anymore, so I’ve blocked his number. I thought we could still be friends, that I could somehow still help him but I can’t—I can’t do anything but hurt myself trying. So... It’s over now. It’s over.”

“Oh Allura...”

She lets her father embrace her and there’s no point in holding up her tears. She’s sobbing quietly into Alfor’s shirt, and there’s nothing she can do to stop herself, or to make herself look like she’s strong and has moved on and nothing Lotor does has an effect on her. Alfor’s soothing fingers run through her hair as he hums gently, rocking his daughter in his arms just as he used to when she was little.

“Is there anything I could do to help, sweetheart?” Alfor asks quietly but Allura shakes her head a no.

“I have to figure this out on my own, Father.”

“I know you will, child, but if anything happens—“

“I understand, Father. I’m just—I’m so angry with myself!” she feels herself heat up with anger and frees herself from Alfor’s hug. “It’s been almost eight months, and I still react badly to everything that concerns Lotor, as if I—“ she seeks for words but they elude her. Her hands are clutched into tight fists and angry, mascara-stained tears roll down her cheeks. “It’s like I can’t get rid of Lotor’s fucking taint.”

“Allura—“

Alfor looks even more worried than he has been, and Allura hates herself for it. She hates causing her dad any more pain than he’s already been through, especially since Allura’s mother Melenor has passed so early. As if her train of thought is written all over her face, Alfor’s features harden as he puts a firm hand on his daughter’s shoulder and looks her in the eye.

“You did everything you could, Allura, but your relationship with Lotor had turned abusive and plain dangerous – you know that. He’s an _addict_ ,” Alfor growls out the word, “and he doesn’t want to get help.”

“I know.” Allura looks down at her father’s shirt, stained with her tears and mascara, and sniffs.

“It was a right call to quit your relationship,” Alfor says. “And now—Recovery can be slow. It can take years; there can be bad days and good days. But you’ve got out. You’re safe. He can’t harm you anymore.”

Allura thinks of Shiro and how he battles his PTSD, thinks of her father mourning the loss of the love of his life for more than two decades now. She thinks of how reserved and distant Keith is, and how Lance hides behind smiles and silly jokes but there’s a permanent kind of sadness in his eyes.

“You can’t save everyone, Allura. It is a sad truth of the life we all lead.”

 

* * *

 

Alfor has insisted that Allura takes her day off, and after some time working on a painting alone in her studio, Allura feels that she is finally calming down. Art has always been her way of finding peace, a magical experience of its own kind. She watches watercolours blend and lets the last remnants of what she once had with Lotor fade away from her.

Father is right. She can’t save everyone. She can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. Lotor has done everything he can to prove it.

With strong, sweeping brushstrokes, Allura paints the ocean and the sky. Bright, brimming with blue and sunlight.

She’s done with hurting.

She adds depth and layers, waiting patiently for the paint to dry. She looks over to the spot in the studio usually occupied by Lance and Keith, and smiles. She adds little, translucent rays of sunshine, and the puff and foam to the ocean waves. She thinks of Shiro, smiling openly as he leans over to have a better look at what Keith is drawing, and paints sea gulls soaring high in the sky.

She thinks that starting an art course is one of the best things that have ever happened to her. Teaching has always been something she wanted to try, but this course is so much more. It has become her chance to get to know Lance from a completely different side, to grow closer with him and wonder why she hasn’t done it sooner. There’s also Keith – a talented young artist whom Allura respects wholeheartedly, his devoted friendship with Lance reminding her so much of the affection between Shiro and herself. Allura wishes to become a good friend to Keith, too, especially now that Keith has finally begun to open up to her – not without Lance’s supervision, of course –  but she likes talking to Keith, his view of the world so different from hers that she feels she is the one learning from Keith and not the other way round.

Shiro has taken a liking of Keith, too, though Allura suspects it is of a slightly different kind, but as long as her best friend keeps smiling as often as he does when Keith is around, Allura is happy. Shiro has been through enough pain, and every moment of Shiro’s joy is as precious to Allura as the man himself. She recalls the dread with which Shiro faced his first time posing for the class, the initial reluctance which took days to work around, and the eye-opening experience he has ended up having as each of her students – especially Keith – have shown him a way to find confidence in himself and his body again. 

Allura smiles as the painting dries, and adds the final touch to the waves with white acrylic paint. She already sees where in the studio she’s going to hang it, satisfaction with her work making her proud, not a single thought of Lotor troubling her anymore.

 

* * *

 

Romelle is chirping happily as the girls make their way from one shop to the other, exploring the Balmera Mall painfully slowly for Allura’s likes but she has a bag full of new paints and she doesn’t mind helping Romelle pick which of the hair accessories looks best on her long, light hair.

“Do you think this one is better? Oh, or this one, with the butterflies?”

Allura examines two barrettes in Romelle’s hands with a critical eye, and ends up pointing at the third one, with little sparkly synthetic stones that remind her of star-flecked sky. Her cousin groans.

“Girl, you’re not helping!” Allura only laughs and leaves Romelle to decide on her own.

She exits the store and checks her phone, smiling as she types a reply to Lance’s text. Romelle shows up later, grinning as she reveals she’s bought all three barrettes instead of picking just one, and with a little smirk, presents Allura the one she liked before. “Here, this is for you, dear cousin.”

Allura gapes. “Romelle, you didn’t have to—“

“It was “buy two, get the third for free” kind of sale, so you’re welcome!”

The girls laugh and head towards one of the escalators when Allura’s phone goes off with a text signal again.

“Who are you texting all the time?” Romelle asks as she leans over Allura’s shoulder to have a look at her screen.

“It’s Lance. Do you remember Lance?”

“Um—He’s your hot neighbour or something?”

“He’s also my friend,” Allura adds, and Romelle rolls her eyes in a “yeah, right” kind of way.

“Well, it seems you two are _really_ close since you’re texting throughout the _entire_ evening while we are out.”

“I’m just—helping him with something for the art class, that’s all!” Allura blurts out a little too hurriedly under Romelle’s scrutinizing eye.

“He’s in your art class?”

“Yes, why?”

“I didn’t know you were into the student/teacher kind of kink, that’s all.”

“ROMELLE!” Allura yells and sprints after her sniggering cousin, earning a few disapproving glances from other shoppers.

 

* * *

 

Thursday couldn’t come any sooner, and Allura is all excited to drag her students outside while the sun is still up and it is warm enough to spend some time in the neighbouring park, sketching pedestrians and each other. Keith and Lance crowd closer to Allura, and she is happy to join their banter as they sketch away. Keith keeps shooting worried glances Lance’s way, and after a while Allura figures out why.

“You know, one of the important things about art is not to expect a perfect image on your first try,” Allura says as casually as she can, students working on their renderings in heated concentration. “One must understand that everyone needs their own time and pace to learn, and should not get disheartened if the result is not the one they were expecting.”

She looks at everyone, carefully, watchful, but her eyes stop on Lance’s hunched figure as he struggles through his work. “Perfectionism is toxic at best, and is not our goal here.” Lance looks up at her, still deep in thought, but when he returns to his drawing, there’s a little more of ease to his lines.

By the time the sun disappears behind a row of buildings it is too dark to continue drawing outside, so the group heads back to Altean Arts. Keith approaches Allura at one point before they all settle down behind their easels and says quietly, “Thanks, Allura.”

“For what?”

Keith glances to where Lance is sitting, brows knit together as he flips through his sketchbook. “For supporting the ones prone to self-doubt.”

Allura nods in understanding. “It’s the least I can do.”

 

* * *

 

The class goes fairly well, considering there’s no model this time and the students are simply sharing their homework sketches. Allura is pleased seeing them use the little tricks she’s taught them the previous session, but after Keith’s words she can’t help but search for ways to help Lance and some of the other students shed the layers of doubt they have about every drawing they present. When it’s Lance’s turn, she carefully compliments the energy behind his poses, and explains foreshortening once more, using a different technique this time. When Lance tries again, it comes out much better, and if he’s still hesitant, he doesn’t look on the verge of quitting anymore. Allura shares a look with Keith, and they both smile proudly at Lance.

Closer towards the end of the class Shiro shows up. Allura can’t help but tease him that it becomes a habit and perhaps he should consider applying to join her course, but her friend just laughs it off and makes himself at home at the back of the studio as he always does, catching up with Lance and Keith in quiet whispers as Allura wraps up the lecture.

“And remember, next Thursday we’re having multiple models present at once, so be prepared to paint a great deal!”

Allura grins as students thank her for the class and Shiro once again helps her cleaning up the studio. Lance and Keith linger back, too, and eventually all four of them make quick work of fixing the room. Shiro and Keith talk quietly to each other as they take the easels to the backroom, Allura notes, but there are suspicious glances they keep throwing Lance’s way, though she quickly dismisses the idea they might be up to something – Shiro is way too busy staring at Keith’s ponytail to function properly as he keeps folding an easel the wrong way without noticing. Keith yanks the easel out of Shiro’s hands before he breaks it and shoos the man away, and Allura just has to tease Shiro about it later.

Once they are half-way through cleaning up, Shiro is pointedly scrolling down his phone, his cheeks tinted pink after the teasing Allura expertly administers the moment she gets her friend all to herself, and she can’t help but laugh good-naturedly at Shiro’s pout.

“Ah come on, Shiro,” she says, fixing her hair into a high bun, “it’s been ages since I’ve last seen you be such a disaster.”

Shiro’s grey eyes are as big as his youngest brother’s when he looks up at Allura. “I’m sorry I nearly broke that easel, okay?”

“Shiro, I’m not talking about the equipment and you know that.”

“No, I don’t?”

Allura is about to reply but the studio nearly explodes with sound and music and Allura and Shiro jump up in fright.

“Whoops, sorry!” Keith says sheepishly, his phone hooked up to the sound system and Lance dashing to readjust the volume to something less ear-drum-popping.

“We just figured some music would be nice,” Lance says as some kind of epic rock Allura has never heard before plays through the speakers, though it is Shiro who lights up and hums approvingly.

“Is this Les Friction?”

Keith nods, glancing at Shiro somewhat surprised. “It’s from their new – well, new-ish – album.”

“They have a new album?!”

It’s only natural for Shiro and Keith completely lose themselves in discussing music, and Allura wonders briefly how come those two haven’t met sooner. It leaves her and Lance finishing up with sweeping the floor and emptying the trash bins, and once they are done, Lance is standing, hands crossed over his chest and expression awed, in front of the watercolour Allura has done that Monday.

“This is nice,” he says, studying the painting closely, and Allura notes that Lance’s eyes are almost the same tint of blue as she used to paint the ocean, the discovery somewhat startling her.

“Did you paint it?” Lance’s question snaps Allura out of it.

“Uh, yes. It... It turned out to be rather personal,” she admits even if it is just a painting of the ocean and there’s little of anything else to call it that but Lance looks at her and then at the painting again as if he can read between the lines.

“It’s very beautiful, if sad,” Lance says, his fingers an inch shy of touching the surface of the watercolour as he traces the flow of the waves and there’s longing in his expression. “It makes me miss home.”

“Well, it’s been a while since you’ve last been to Cuba,” Keith says as he and Shiro finally join them, Shiro shooting a smile Allura’s way, her previous teasing forgotten. “I can only imagine how much you miss your family, buddy.”

Lance smiles sadly at his friend. “I’m not the only one who misses their family but—Thanks, Keith.”

Shiro watches them subtly, eyes lingering on Keith, and Allura’s own watching Lance with sympathy. It takes for Keith’s playlist to change to energetic Fall Out Boy tracks for all four to snap out of the sombre mood, Lance sighing softly as he steps away from the painting and smiles at Allura. Shiro shares a glance with Keith, and the later gives Lance a subtle nudge.

Allura cocks her head to the side, amused as Lance shares a heated glare with smirking Keith where moments ago friendly affection lingered before clearing his throat and rather nervously say, “So I’ve heard there’s going to be a movie weekend at Naxzela’s—“ There’s another nudge from Keith, a lot less subtle. “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go? Like, together?”

Keith has fire in his eyes as he steps quietly away from Lance, Shiro visibly tense at Allura’s side, and she can’t help but wonder what the whole deal is about, but Lance looks so sheepish she beams as she says, “Yes, I myself was about to ask if you guys would want to come!”

“Really?” Lance’s eyes are big and excited, and Allura lights up with ideas, both of them jumping into discussing which movies they’d want to watch and what day should they pick so that everyone has it free. It takes Allura a moment to notice that both Keith and Shiro look completely devastated and she pouts, poking her friend’s bionic arm.

“Hey, what’s up with you two?”

Shiro is all too quick to deny everything despite Keith running a frustrated hand down his face, Lance looking as confused as Allura.

“Okay,” she draws out.

“Keith, are you free on Sunday?” Lance asks, quick to change the mood, or at least try to, since his friend looks all but frustrated as he says that he indeed is free. “Then Sunday it is,” Lance says.

 

* * *

 

By the time Lance and Allura have made their way to their building, it’s well past midnight, but despite a long day, Allura feels energetic and happily chats with Lance all the way from Altean Arts to her apartment door. Keith and Shiro had left them, flying off into the night on Shiro’s hoverbike, both still somehow brooding.

Lance is fumbling with his keys and chews on his bottom lip, clearly considering something as he turns to face Allura.

“Is everything alright?” she asks, brows knitting together in concern.

“Yes! I just—“ Lance rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m just not sure if—“ He sighs, head hanging low.

“Lance?” Allura steps closer to him, hesitantly putting a hand on his upper arm. “If there’s anything you need to talk about, I’m right here,” she says softly and her heart hitches lightly at the grateful, earnest look Lance gives her in return.

“Okay. I’m fine, though, but—Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

There’s that sadness lingering in his eyes again, the same one Allura has noticed when Lance has had about him when he spoke about his family all the way back in Cuba. It's a heart-wrenching sight. 

 _Oh well,_ Allura thinks and pulls Lance into a tight hug. The man tenses at first, clearly caught off-guard, but after a brief moment his hands come to wrap gently around Allura’s waist, and she lets herself melt into it, marvelling at how right it feels.

They stay like that for a while, embracing each other, Lance’s frantic heartbeat calming to match the steady one of Allura’s, and once they pull apart, Lance is smiling gently at her.

“Wow,” he says, “I guess I needed that.”

Allura looses herself in that soft expression, bushy lashes framing eyes that carry the spirit of the ocean within, dusky skin shining with health and a light touch of freckles scattered across Lance’s cheeks. Lance’s incredibly handsome, she suddenly realises, very aware he’s still holding her hand in his.

“I should probably go,” she mumbles, as graceful as Shiro is around Keith. “See you this Sunday?”

“Sure, Princess,” Lance replies and there’s one more thing Allura realises as she slips into her apartment and rests her back against the front door.

Of all the people in the whole wide world, Lance McClain is the only one besides her father and uncle who can pull off calling her by a nickname and get away with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come chat with me on [tumblr](https://voidslantern.tumblr.com/) :)


	4. head in the clouds but my gravity's centered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO SHAME

Shiro dodges his colleagues and cadets on his way to the Garrison’s parking lot, answering their greetings and calls with hurried smiles that are not as genuine as his usual ones but he’s so horribly late even his politeness takes a blow, his focus triangulated on how to get to the place on time. A frantic check of the watch makes him curse under his breath as his quick gait turns into a half-jog. As much as Shiro wishes he could just fold space and time and claw out those extra ten minutes he needs to get to “The Lion’s Diner”for his lunch with Keith at 13:00, this reality refuses to understand his wishes. Being an expert pilot and owning a state-of-the-art hoverbike doesn’t make a 20-minute ride from the Garrison Academy—located miles away in Arus’ outskirts – to its centre any shorter, and that’s not taking the Friday-busy and slow traffic in the city proper into the equation.

After another glance at the watch on his wrist that glares 12:49 at him and there’s no point in denying the truth anymore, Shiro slows down to fumble through the pockets of his instructor uniform in search of his phone and types a text.

                S: _I’m sorry I might be like 10-15 mins late so if you’re as bad at time management as me then you can relax_

Keith replies a minute later – enough time for Shiro to cross the massive parking lot, unlock his bike and begin fastening the helmet on his head.

                K: _It’s OK, I’m already @ TLD. Hunk’s giving me free food samples & says hi_

Shiro laughs under his breath and starts the engine, ATLAS revving with power under him.

 

By some kind of a miracle, Shiro is climbing into the barstool next to Keith’s at 13:08, a little winded out and still riding the adrenaline from that last hairpin turn he has had to make in order to avoid a red light and yet another traffic jam. The diner is as full as it can possibly be when everyone is rushing in to grab their meal, the waiters rushing from table to table in a flurry of motion, though the atmosphere is just as comfortable and relaxing as it always is – one of the main reasons why Shiro likes “The Lion’s Diner” better than any other restaurant.

“Hey, Shiro,” Keith greets over some kind of a crunchy cookie, a whole plate of them in front of him that he invitingly pushes towards Shiro.

“Hi! And thanks,” Shiro replies as he grabs a few, recognizing Hunk’s baking by the first bite. “Sorry I’ve made you wait so long.”

“No worries, man. Besides, I’ve all those free cookies and I think I’m hooked on them,” Keith laughs, reaching out for another one.

“Can’t blame you – they are addictive,” Shiro agrees, watching Keith stuff himself with an amused smile. Today, Keith looks ridiculously nice and well-rested, the dark circles he’s been sporting under his eyes at yesterday’s art class smoothed out almost completely. Shiro’s gaze falls to an open sketchbook near Keith’s plate and he doesn’t realise he’s made a sound until Keith is blushing lightly, noticing it, too.

“I’ve just—doodled a bit while I waited for you.”

Shiro asks for a permission to have a closer look that Keith immediately grants, angling the sketchbook to him, and Keith’s artwork once again takes Shiro’s breath away.

“If you call this a doodle then I’ve no idea what do I need to do to prepare myself for seeing a finished painting from you,” Shiro murmurs, awed by the pencil renderings of the diner and people eating and talking there. There’s even a life-like portrait of Hunk that brims in a perfect capture with his kindness and care.

Keith is momentarily tense by his side, his voice betraying how embarrassed he is, “I—I rarely do paintings these days.”

“Oh. Well, if you do – I’d love to see it.”

“Really?”

“Of course. You’re very talented, Keith,” Shiro says with heartfelt honesty. Keith stares at him for a moment too long, cheeks and even the tips of his ears flushed bright pink before he looks away and mumbles his thanks.

The drawings are so nice Shiro is caught off guard looking at them. It’s a perfect opening for Hunk to sneak up on him from the kitchen and with a yell of his name clutch him in an attack hug.

“SHIRO!”

“Please don’t crush me—“ Shiro manages to wheeze out instead of a greeting, Keith laughing under his breath as Hunk finally lets Shiro go.

“Aw, come on, man, everyone loves my hugs,” Hunk teases and Shiro rolls his eyes. There’s another snort from Keith, and Hunk turns to him.

“Keith, do you want a hug?” he sing-songs, big brown eyes gleaming with mischief.

Keith is instantly wide-eyed, holding onto his plate of cookies for dear life, “Nah, I’m fine.”

Hunk gives him “I’ll get you someday” look but Keith shrugs it off, stuffing another cookie into his mouth. Shiro’s stomach growls at the sight, and Hunk immediately asks him if he wants his usual for the lunch.

“Yes, that would be—“ Shiro’s stomach rumbles again, and Hunk gives him a pat on the shoulder.

“Mac ‘n’ cheese, on its way. Keith, what’s your order?”

“Same as Shiro’s. More cookies?”

Hunk grins from ear to ear, “You’ve got ‘em, man.”

They don’t speak much while they wait for the food, though Keith eyes Shiro’s Garrison uniform with a hint of curiosity for a few minutes before he finally asks,

“Are you a pilot or an instructor?”

Shiro wonders briefly how is it best to explain without bringing all his baggage along the way but figures there’s no point in dancing around with words since all it would take Keith to find out the whole thing is to ask Allura about it.

“I’ve used to be a pilot, though now I’m,” Shiro waves his bionic hand a little, “on a break with it, so I’m teaching the cadets at the Garrison Academy.”

Keith’s clever eyes are on Shiro’s prosthetic for a brief moment. He no doubt wants to ask all the questions anyone in his place would’ve asked – Shiro’s been through this talk too many times already not to know how it usually unfolds. Him having to go in all the embarrassing explaining that after losing an arm nearly two years ago he’s still not clear for piloting a craft again, let alone he’s still going through rehabilitation along with his usual procedures thanks to the muscle disease but... Keith looks at Shiro’s face with nearly the same intensity as he has had during the time when Shiro has been modelling for the class and asks,

“So what do you like doing more – flying or teaching?”

Shiro’s mouth falls open as he realises he’s expected all the usual prodding whys, whens, and hows, not a question that is accepting the both things as equals, that implies Shiro can do whatever he wants with his career and taking a break isn’t a flaw. He instantly feels like he owns Keith an apology.

“Actually, I— I think I like both. I used to believe I was made for flying – it’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do with my life,” Shiro says, fingers intertwining together in front of him as he stares down at them, a million of thoughts and memories rushing through his mind. “When I came back after the accident, teaching felt like the worst kind of demotion, but the cadets... I don’t know how to explain it, but the next thing I know I do not notice how time goes by because I’m completely engrossed in teaching – something I’ve never thought I would enjoy, you know? Sure, nothing compares to flying high up in the sky but—there’s some kind of a different level of satisfaction and pride watching someone you’ve taught take off into the skies, too, so—I guess there’s something good about the both things.”

Keith listens attentively to him speaking, eyes never leaving Shiro’s face, and somehow it makes Shiro’s cheeks heat with colour. “Sorry. I must have bored you with my rant.”

“No, you didn’t. It’s interesting,” Keith says. “I wanted to go to a flight school when I was a kid, too.”

Shiro smiles, imagining Keith piloting a craft, fast and sleek, a little reckless, too. “But you’ve picked art instead?”

Keith takes a moment to reply. “You can say that, yeah,” and Shiro senses he shouldn’t prod anymore.

Shiro shifts in his seat and steals another cookie off of Keith’s plate, munching on it to hide the awkward turn their conversation has taken and remembers this is supposed to be their Lance-Allura Problem meeting.

“Have you talked to Lance since yesterday?”

Keith nods. “Oh he’s got his ass kicked for failing the one job he had, don’t worry.”

“Keith—“

“I’m kiddin’! I’ve just asked why he couldn’t phrase asking Allura out a little less dubiously and he only said he panicked and when Allura misunderstood him he just didn’t have the courage to correct.”

“Huh.”

A waiter brings them two plates of Hunk’s mac ‘n’ cheese masterpieces and two cups of black coffee, and Shiro is all too hungry to ignore his favourite food, so they eat in comfortable silence, the sounds of the restaurant and some pop music playing in the background creating a pleasant ambient effect.

When they both are full and now sip on their coffee, Keith deems a perfect time to drop a bomb.

“Lance said Allura hugged him, by the way.”

Shiro chokes on his drink. “What?!”

Keith puts his cup on the plate and reaches for the cookies again. “Yep. Yesterday after the art class, right when they got to their front doors.”

“Wait, was it like, you know, a platonic hug or a romantic hug?”

Keith sighs, rubbing at his temples. “I don’t know. Lance couldn’t describe it properly – he was too busy yelling from cloud nine that she hugged him.”

“Damn,” Shiro frowns, chewing at his lip. “Perhaps I could ask Allura— No, that would give us out, unless she’d bring it up on her own.”

“What does she say about Lance, anyway?” Keith asks, leaning on his elbows. Shiro suddenly wishes they were sitting in a booth and not at the bar so he could look at Keith properly – but it would make it seem like they are having a date and Shiro knows he’d fail terribly at telling himself that they are not.

“She certainly talks about him a lot more often—Have you noticed they are always texting each other?”

“Yeah. Lance says Allura’s helping him with art.”

“24/7, apparently,” Shiro adds, remembering how Allura’s spent the entire evening they had together for snacks and Netflix getting distracted by her phone so much Shiro had to lock the offending piece of tech in a drawer so that he could finally have his best friend all to himself.

“Maybe they aren’t as helpless as we thought?” Keith muses.

“We’ll see this Sunday. Besides, we still need a back-up plan in case the things won’t go well on their own.”

There isn’t much time left before Shiro has to get back to his classes, so they end up with a plan that mostly consists of “If Thing A happens, we can fix it by Thing B”, and decide that no matter what, they must have Allura and Lance sit together in the cinema. Keith turns out to be rather passionate about the whole idea of helping the pining idiots, and Shiro finds himself mesmerized by the fire in Keith’s eyes as he keeps ranting about possible Lance behaviours and gives insight on his friend’s thought process when Allura is around.

“Wow. You really know Lance well,” Shiro points out.

Keith blinks a couple of times, as if parsing their entire conversation. “I guess I do. I mean, he’s my best friend and I’ve known him for ages.”

Shiro smiles at Keith’s startled expression. “He’s lucky to have a friend like you.” _And you’re insanely cute when you’re blushing._

Keith honestly tries to wave him off but ends up hiding his flushed face behind his cup of coffee. Lucky for Keith, Shiro’s watch goes off, and with a huff he announces he has to head back to the Garrison lest he’ll miss his own class. He tries not to notice the somewhat disappointed look in Keith’s eyes, but he follows Shiro to the parking lot after they’ve paid for their meal and said goodbye to Hunk, and there’s still so much Shiro wants to ask Keith about, but it seems that whenever they have the brief moments when it’s just them, there’s always some kind of a limit to the time they share.

Shiro fastens his helmet, wondering briefly that in daylight Keith’s eyes are dark blue and not as violet as they appear in the dark or in artificial light, but still beautiful, framed with black lashes that cast shadows on his pale cheeks. It’s always like that about Keith – Shiro hasn’t seen Keith in anything but simple, casual clothing and his work uniform, but he knows he’s never met someone as handsome in such an effortless, very _Keith_ way. He has trouble looking away from how Keith leans against the wing of his hoverbike, arms crossed over his chest and the thin cotton of his hoodie does little to hide the muscles shifting underneath.

“Hey, do we even know what movies we can pick to watch?” Keith asks, and Shiro has to remind himself of why they’ve met today in the first place.

“Uh... I’ve no idea. I was thinking of calling Allura to ask, though.”

Keith hums. “Yeah, that’s totally worth checking out, I mean... I know Lance and his—“ Keith makes a face, “unique taste in films.” Shiro fights back a laugh but it’s slipping through his lips anyway.

“Yeah, you laugh now, but you’ll be sobbing on the floor if he’s the one to pick,” Keith says. “I know. I’ve been there. I lived through it.”

“Fine, fine, I believe you,” Shiro raises his hands in defeat. “So dramatic, jeez.”

Keith slaps him on the helmet lightly, “Go to work already, Officer Smartass.”

“Lieutenant, actually,” Shiro corrects, starting the engine but not lifting off the ground yet.

“Whatever.” Shiro bristles but it only makes Keith smirk wider. Once again, it feels as if he’s known Keith for years, not for three weeks. There’s this comfort being around each other that usually takes time to achieve – even with Allura it took months to fall into friendship, it took work to fit the puzzle of their baggage and character quirks, but they’ve built their friendship solid, brick by brick. Keith has just appeared in his life like an explosion of character and talent, and Shiro doesn’t want him to leave. So he takes a deep breath, not caring he’s going to be late for work, and asks,

“Are you working today, too?”

Keith frowns immediately, nodding. “In a few hours, yes. Why?”

“Mind if I drop by to pick you up? We really haven’t figured anything out today about what to do with Lance and Allura...”

Keith snorts, kicking a stone on the ground that skitters across the parking lot and hits a vehicle a few slots away from Shiro’s hoverbike. “True. Does that offer to hang out at your place still stands?”

“Yes, of course. What was it... Video games and food?”

“We’ll just have to add figuring Allura and Lance out into the mix,” Keith laughs and suddenly Shiro’s heart is feather-light. Roughly an entire day spent in Keith’s company? Sign Shiro the hell up.

“Then it’s settled,” he says with a casual smile and Keith salutes him, all the teasing in his gesture.

 

* * *

  
By the time Shiro’s done with his job and has diligently attended the mandatory visits to his doctors, he’s starved all over again. There has been no time to grab a snack ever since the lunch with Keith, and it’s nine in the evening now. Grumpy, Shiro drops by the Balmera Mall for a grocery refill he’s been planning on doing for days, and now that he has to prepare something decent for Keith, it’s all a must. His mood changes for the better the moment he spies the familiar mess of Keith’s black hair at one of the registers, the basket heavy with food in his arms. Keith only quirks a brow at it and nods him over.

“How’s it going?” Shiro asks as casually as he can under the intense gaze of violet eyes.

“’s fine. You look like shit though,” Keith observes as he rings out his items.Shiro hums in agreement, searching through his wallet for a credit card. “You know we don’t have to do it if you’re not feeling well, right?”

Shiro glances up at Keith, quite touched by his concern, “I’m just hungry, Keith, it’s nothing.”

Keith frowns as Shiro pays for the purchase. “Alright. My shift ends in 15 minutes.”

“I’ll wait for you in the parking lot, then,” Shiro grins.

 

He ends up spending the entire time he has to wait for Keith organising all the stuff he’s bought in ATLAS’s storage compartments, and he’s still left with a box of buckwheat that refuses to fit anywhere. When Keith sees him sitting sadly with said box in his arms, he’s bent over laughing from the sight.

“Just give it to me, I have space in my backpack,” he offers.

“Thanks,” Shiro murmurs, handing him a helmet, too. “By the way, don’t get freaked out by my cat – he’s a little shit around new people.”

“Okay,” Keith says, climbing to sit behind Shiro, his warmth seeping through all the layers of clothing that separate them, and Shiro has to fight back the urge to lean in a little into the touch of the firm hands on his waist. “What’s his name?”

“Black.”

“How very creative,” Keith teases.

“Wait till you see him.”

“And that sounds— menacing?”

Shiro takes off and doesn’t reply, enjoying the little yelp from Keith as they speed up to join the traffic.

 

Keith helps carry the bags. Keith holds up the door for Shiro. Keith laughs when Black tackles Shiro from his favourite shelf in a blur of golden eyes and shiny black fur as they enter his apartment. Keith lets Black sniff at his hand and experimentally rubs under his chin, the cat purring in Shiro’s arms.

If Shiro haven’t had a crush on Keith before, he would’ve had it from this alone.

“You—uh... Make yourself comfortable,” Shiro mumbles, letting Black go and picking up the grocery bags. “I’ll go make something to eat.”

Keith takes off his backpack but still follows Shiro into the kitchen, peeking curiously around as he watches Shiro put away the stuff he’s bought.

“I could help you cook, you know.”

“You’re a guest, Keith. Relax, I’ve got this.”

“You’ve just put a box of cereal into the fridge—“ Keith sing-songs.

“...Fuck.”Shiro’s so embarrassed he’s probably flushing all the tints of red by now. Even Black comes over to investigate, though settles for asking for food instead.

“How about this,” Keith says, tilting his head to the side, bangs falling into his eyes so he has to push them away, and Shiro’s embarrassed even more – this time because of the thoughts running through his head, “you don’t treat me as a guest and let me help you cook dinner? Seriously, though, you look tired.”

Black adds his own meow to Keith’s words, and Shiro sighs, realising he might have miscalculated his own strengths. The visit to his doctor has left him stressed out and his shoulder aches. Cooking together will marginally speed things up.

“Okay,” he agrees, and Keith immediately springs into action.

Shiro feeds Black, earning a nuzzle into his flesh palm, and sets off to join in with Keith. They indeed make quick work of cooking, conjuring up beef and rice skillet that they eat together at the tiny table in the corner of Shiro’s kitchen, bumping knees and chatting about their day.

Keith makes a motion to help cleaning up the plates but Shiro shoos him away from the kitchen, pushing the man all the way into the living room to sit on the couch. Black immediately climbs into Keith’s lap, and Shiro honestly doesn’t recognise his own cat.

“Aw,” Keith says, running a hand through Black’s fur, “your cat is cuddly.”

Shiro grabs his laptop from his bedroom and joins them on the couch. “He’s not. I’ve no idea what’s got into him.” Golden eyes gleam at Shiro mischievously in reply as Black makes himself comfortable in Keith’s lap.  “Anyway, here’s the deal –have you heard from Lance?” he asks, waiting for his computer to boot up.

“Nope. He’s warned me he might stay late at work today – they are having a surprise birthday party for their boss or something.”

“Allura texted she’s at her cousin’s place, I’ve promised to call her later but before that,” Shiro says as he opens his browser and looks up Naxzela Cinema, “we need to know what we’re dealing with.”

They look through the Sunday movie lists, and while some are stereotypical superhero or sappy romance movies that Keith points out as possible Lance things, and even Shiro admits a marathon of those might be a challenge, and try to figure out what all four of them will enjoy, until Shiro’s Skype goes off with a video call from Allura. Shiro answers immediately– only to be greeted by a rather pissed off face of his best friend.

“Shiro, you’ve promised to call me—Oh, hi, Keith!”

“Hey, Allura,” Keith grins and waves from his seat. Allura happily waves back, but her eyes are as hard as steel as she looks at Shiro again.

“You’ve promised to call, Shiro, hours ago. I was starting to freak out!”

“I’m sorry. I was about to—“

“It’s my fault, actually,” Keith interrupts. “I’ve messed up Shiro’s plans.”

Allura sighs but her eyes soften. “So you guys are hanging out together?”

“Dinner and video games!” Shiro and Keith say simultaneously, which only prompts them both to burst out laughing.

“But really, Allura, there’s something I need to ask you about Sunday,” Shiro says.

“Go ahead.”

“What movies are we watching?”

“Oh, that—“ Allura looks down sheepishly. “Well, there’s been a slight change of plans—“

“Uh oh,” Keith whispers and Shiro, too, feels unease.

“So I might have told Romelle about our movie night and invited her with us. Later today, Romelle told Hunk, and it might be so that we have Matt and Pidge coming with us, too.”

Shiro glances at Keith who looks just as forlorn as Shiro feels. Dodging the entirety of the gang of misfits that are loud and obnoxious together to get Lance and Allura share a moment? That’s quite the challenge.

“So basically Matt and Pidge picked the Pacific Rim trilogy for the night – they made sure any changes are out of the question, as usual. I hope you guys are okay with it. You are okay, right?”

There’s worry in Allura’s eyes as both Shiro and Keith just sit there, parsing what she’s said, until Black meows and Keith snaps out of trance. “Yeah, sure, those are good movies.”

“Great!” Allura beams. “Keith, can you please call Lance tell him the news?”

“I uh—“

“Keith’s phone died,” Shiro hears himself say, “Maybe you call him, Allura?”

“Of course, no problem.”

There’s a little sparkle of genuine happiness in Allura’s eyes Shiro hasn’t seen there for years. Its return is a victory in its own right.

“Alright, you boys have fun, I think I can hear Romelle calling me.” She places her fingers to her lips and blows them a kiss.

“Good night, Allura,” Shiro replies, “Say hello to Romelle from us!”

“Sure thing!”

As Shiro closes the Skype window, Keith is contemplative and quiet, running fingers through Black’s fur – to the cat’s pure bliss.

“We can salvage this,” Shiro says.

“There will be a lot of people there.”

“Yeah, but as long as Allura and Lance have a few moments for themselves...”

Keith sighs, letting Black jump off the couch. “I’ve a feeling Lance won’t be able to catch Allura’s attention. A movie marathon, lots of new people—He might end up overwhelmed and trying to impress everyone, which won’t lead him anywhere with Allura.”

“Lance, overwhelmed in a social situation? C’mon, Keith, lighten up. Your friend is good with people, he’ll figure it out.”

Keith is still silent, busy worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Besides, Allura hasn’t seen the third Pacific Rim,” Shiro presses on.“I’m sure they’ll have plenty of things to talk about – not like they ever had trouble with it, anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I guess I’ve just realised I want Lance to be happy so much I’ve barely taken into consideration that there might be some hiccups along the way.”

Shiro’s about to joke about hiccups, but there’s a loud crash from his bedroom that startles Keith. Shiro? Shiro’s way too used to the phenomenon after living for three years with his lion of a cat.

“What the hell was that?!”

“Black, probably. I’ll be right back.”

Shiro puts the laptop aside and goes to investigate, only to find Black sprawled leisurely across the bookshelf, most of Shiro’s favourite books in a sad heap on the floor.

“Really, Black? Even _The Lord of the Rings_?”

Keith pokes his head inside the room and bursts out laughing at the sight of Shiro’s bleak attempts to scold his unimpressed cat. _At least he’s smiling again_ , Shiro thinks as he collects the books and tosses them on his bed.

“Keith, you still up for the video games? It’s getting pretty late.”

“I’ve day off tomorrow, so we’re on. Whatcha got?”

 

* * *

 

Saturday brings little excitement. Shiro wakes up in cold sweat from another nightmare, and feels sick and anxious for the rest of the day. He goes out only once – to get some kind of new, experimental meds for his muscles, and once he’s back in his apartment, there’s really no strength in him left to do anything but to tinker with the script for one of his flight simulator tests.

By Sunday he’s completely free of any work-related things, Shiro’s mood somewhat improved since the day before. It is that period in his life again when not seeing a nightmare or not having a panic attack is considered a win.

Allura sends him a few texts in the morning, and they end up chatting over Skype while Allura paints some of her commissions and Shiro goes through his exercise routine. He makes sure to feel out the ground about Lance with careful, veiled questions, but Allura doesn’t pick on his strategy and is all eager to discuss the amount of sketching Lance apparently has been doing under her supervision.

“Don’t you think you kind of stole Keith’s role in this?” Shiro teases. “I mean, I don’t think you’re taking extra time with any other of your students, and Lance already has a best friend who paints just as well as you do, Allura.”

“I- What, no! Did I?” Allura sounds almost panicked, and it’s absolutely not what Shiro has wanted to achieve. “Oh no, I totally did.”

“Allura, that’s not what I’ve meant.”

“I stole Keith’s friend from him. Is he upset with me? Is he? Shiro, you’ve got to tell me!”

Shiro stops mid-squat and picks up his phone. “Allura, calm down and listen to me. Keith’s not mad, he’s okay with you and Lance spending more time together.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ve only meant that it’s pretty obvious you enjoy spending time with Lance, and—I’m happy that you’re having a good time together.”

Allura’s line is silent for a moment until she exhales, the sound coming out as a wave of static. “We really do, don’t we?” Shiro can hear Allura fumble with something and after a moment he realises she’s making a cup of coffee. “These past few weeks have been great. I never thought I could enjoy teaching this much, but... it isn’t the whole reason, is it? Lance has turned the whole experience into something completely different, something... so much more, so beyond what I have been expecting...” She’s silent again, the distinct sound of water boiling filling the dynamics. “Do you feel it, too, Shiro? With Keith?”

“Feel what?”

“As if you’ve known him in some other life?”

Shiro rolls his shoulders, noting the stiffness in his bad one, and proceeds with the exercises from his rehabilitation list. “Is it like that between you and Lance?”

“Yes. It’s so strange but I feel like I _know_ him. More than a neighbour or an art teacher would.”

“Like you’ve been close with him for years instead of weeks?”

“Yeah. It feels so natural, so right that it scares me sometimes.”

“Allura, don’t be scared,” Shiro sighs and stops his stretching, finding it difficult to communicate his thoughts while doing something else. “I know you’ve been hurt in a relationship before, and I know how difficult it is to open up to a person again but... Lance seems like a genuinely good guy, kind and funny, and he likes you, Allura. Just... allow yourself to enjoy his company and see where it takes you, okay?”

She’s quiet for a few moments, but her voice comes confident when she replies, “Thank you, Shiro. I’ll try.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro spends a concerning amount of time trying to figure out what to wear for the movie night, and after Matt texts him it’s going to be nearly eight hours of films, Shiro sends it all to hell and picks comfort over look. At least he makes sure to change the battery unit in his prosthetic for a freshly charged one – all the exercising he did in the morning has drained it, and the long night out provides with little chance of making it back home before the battery dies completely.

Black nuzzles into his jeans, and Shiro makes sure to leave him enough of food and puts out an extra bowl of water. Black looks at him with big pleading golden orbs and Shiro gives in, taking extra time to play with him and kisses him on the head when it’s time to leave for Naxzela.

He picks Keith up and they make it to the cinema earlier than anticipated, though it only serves them well as they have time to sniff around the theatre and buy the snacks for the night, all the while revising their plan.

“Lance just texted me, Allura and he are outside,” Keith says as they wait for others.

“Good,” Shiro replies. “Matt and Pidge are a few minutes away, too.”

“KEITH! SHIRO!”

“...And here’s Hunk,” Shiro grins, opening his arms for a hug, but Hunk catches Keith in it, too, and squeezes them both tightly.

“Ow,” Keith manages.

“Get welcomed into our little found family, Keith,” Hunk laughs as he lifts them both and spins a little, the sheer strength of the man putting all of Shiro’s workouts to shame.

“Aw, are we missing all the hugs?” Lance pouts from behind them, Allura beaming at his side.

“Join in, guys!”

“No, please don’t—“ Keith wheezes, Shiro trying to angle the hard elbow of his prosthetic away from Keith’s side but ends up having it squeezed between Keith’s back and Lance’s chest. It gets worse when with a yell that announces the arrival of the Holt siblings, Pidge tackles atop of Allura, Matt crowding in somewhere between Hunk and Lance. The final blow to the integrity of the hug goes to Romelle who shows up a moment after the Holts, and the entire group nearly tips over, everyone laughing.

“Ah, it’s good to finally see everyone,” Matt says, wiping away tears. “Hey, new faces, too!”

Allura – ever the polite one – introduces Lance and Keith as her friends from the art class, though Pidge immediately chirps in, locking elbows with Keith and with a devious little smirk announces, “This is the Keith I’ve told you about, Matt. The one who’s drawn Shiro ass-naked at—“

“Pidge, no—“ Shiro tries to interrupt but the damage is done, and Matt’s eyes are lit with recognition. Keith, still reeling himself back in after the group hug, isn’t prepared for Matt grabbing his hands and shaking them hard as if he’s just met his life’s hero.

“Keith, I’m Matt. I’m at the Garrison together with Shiro. It’s an honour to finally meet you in person.”

“Uh, okay. Hi,” Keith manages awkwardly, and Shiro wants to turn invisible because the next thing Matt does is to ask Keith for all the embarrassing details about Shiro and his modelling career. Pidge is hollering again, and it takes Allura’s strict “ahem” to get the Holts back in line.

“Seriously, though,” Lance says, “I’ve drawn Shiro naked, too, but no one ever pesters me about it. Keith, what did you do?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” he replies.

“Alright, alright, enough with the teasing,” Shiro speaks with as much authority he can muster, ready to do anything to move on from the all the embarrassing banter. “Allura, you have the tickets?”

“Yes!” She shows the printed receipts and Shiro takes them from her, keeping in mind to have Allura and Lance sitting together while he labels the bought seats on the map of their auditorium. The Pacific Rim marathon turned out to be quite popular, so Allura has had to compromise while buying the tickets – a few seats have ended up straying from the main bulk, but it’s nothing that can ruin the mood.

“I want to sit with Hunk,” Pidge says over Shiro’s shoulder, and he writes their names on the corresponding seats, also adding Romelle’s to the third one in their row. There’s a solitary seat that is immediately claimed by Matt – “The Pacific Rim movies are a form of art and I shall enjoy them without distractions” – which leaves them with two sets of paired up seats. Allura and Lance share a look and decide to go for the ones that are a row away from the backseats, which leaves Keith and Shiro sitting directly behind them. Perfect.

“Alright, we have about 20 minutes before the first movie starts, so everyone go grab something to eat,” Shiro announces. “I’ll go sort out our tickets.”

 

It is somewhat impressive that no one is late to the actual movie, hands full of food and exited grins on their faces as the group scatters around. The auditorium is full of people of all ages, but, thankfully, no one has brought an infant to a PG-13 movie. Allura and Lance are joking around, Lance making a scene about the hands of his seat, but Allura finds his goofing around absolutely hilarious anyway. Keith kicks his backpack under his seat and makes himself comfortable while Shiro tries to fit the giant bowl of popcorn between them. Matt looks like a king several seats away from them, and Hunk, Pidge, and Romelle are already noses deep into discussing something.

Keith winks at Shiro when the lights go out, and Lance hollers over the auditorium, “Bring it on, baby!”

“Here we go,” Shiro murmurs, opening a bottle of still water as one of his favourite movies begins.

 

The first movie flies by quickly, both Keith and Shiro keeping an eye on their friends rather than on the movie itself, but Allura and Lance seem to be enjoying the film, whispering quietly to each other and turning to check on Keith and Shiro from time to time. There’s a break before the second film, so everyone gets up to stretch their muscles for a bit, and Keith is grinning as he chats with Lance, the later re-enacting the final fight scene with comical sound effects, Allura watching the two with warmth in her eyes.

Shiro tucks the moment away, a happy memory to guide him.

 

The second Pacific Rim has Keith whispering to Shiro at every badly scripted scene, both of them entering a contest of who can come up with the most sarcastic comment about the nonsense that is going on on screen. Neither wins, though – it’s far more fun just to laugh together at the inconsistency and awkward dialogue. Lance even turns to them once with a mockingly strict tone to shush them. Keith only laughs and rests his feet on the back of Lance’s seat, leaving Shiro flushing bright red in the dark as he tries to focus on the movie instead of the length of Keith’s legs, imagination drawing all too vivid pictures of said legs wrapped tightly around Shiro’s waist.

The bottle of water in Shiro’s hand is hours since no longer icy cold but he still contemplates pouring whatever is left on his head. And then Keith leans closer to him, hand grasping his arm as he laughs, open and merry, Shiro doesn’t even know what is so funny – Lance’s annoyed whine or something that happened on screen. He simply zeroes in on the handsome man on his left, and gravitates into his orbit, seeking the warmth that seems to have abandoned his life years ago but now is re-discovered in the violet-eyed artist.

Keith is looking at him and for once, he doesn’t shy away, doesn’t remove his hand. They just watch each other instead of the film, and it’s intimate, trusting.

Shiro’s heart rams against his ribs, a bird ready to break free.

What are they to each other? Are they even friends yet?

Shiro, of all the things his life has thrown into him, is still hesitant to let anyone close. Allura and his brothers are the only three people in the entire world that have seen the true him, unmasked, a sobbing mess of PTSD and all the bad cards at hand. Once, there was Adam, but they had not worked out, and it has only made Shiro close in on himself, built a wall. Who would want a wreck, anyway.

Why is it that when Shiro looks at Keith, there’s that unexplainable, supernatural kind of a pull somewhere under his solar plexus, and the need to be close, close, closer.

Keith.

Clever, curious eyes that do not judge. Accepting of Shiro, of what his life is like. Hands quick to work out the tricky workings of a panel in Shiro’s arm and help him change the battery unit mid-game because Shiro is carefree for the first time in a long time and he forgets he even has a prosthetic. Lips quick to curl into smiles at Shiro’s dumb jokes. Lips that Shiro really, really wants to kiss right now.

But he stops himself. He carefully frees his hand from Keith’s gentle grasp, and it alone makes Keith’s cheeks darken, as if he’s only now realised he’s had his hand on Shiro’s.

They easily fall back into their previous light-hearted dynamic, Matt gesturing something wildly to Keith. It takes a moment for him to realise that Matt is asking for a spare bottle of cola since he’s run out already, and Shiro sighs, relieved that with the distraction, he no longer feels ready to be swallowed by the floor.

Shiro’s so quick to give Allura advice but he never can understand what is going with his own life. There’s one certainty though – he likes Keith. A lot. And it begins to show.

 

The third Pacific Rim is almost living up to the level set by the original one, and it is a lot more enjoyable for everyone. Shiro has to catch his breath and nudge Keith to point out how Allura has scooted closer to Lance, and now has his arm wrapped casually around her shoulders.

“It is just like in all those sappy high school dramas Lance likes,” Keith whispers. “I can’t believe he’s actually gone for it.”

“I can’t believe Allura has let him do that,” Shiro replies in a whisper, too. “She kind of never liked the whole concept of moves like that.”

They look at each other and grin. It is definitely a victory.

It turns to be even more of a victory when they get their chance to observe the effect a simple cuddle up at the movies has had on the both of their friends. Allura is quiet and contemplative but so much more comfortable with casually brushing Lance’s hand to get his attention while they are in a group, and Lance is somewhat more confident around her, too, now that he knows she doesn’t reject his touch and even welcomes it.

“What’s changed, though?” Keith is asking quietly as he and Shiro walk together towards the parking lot, keeping a distance between themselves and the rest of their gang of friends so they can talk without the fear of being overheard. It is well past two in the morning and many of them have to be up early but no one seems to care. “We know they’ve hugged before, right, but now they both are acting so... different around each other.”

“Maybe it’s because all the time before Allura has been the one to initiate the contact?” Shiro muses. “Think of it – back at the first art class, she’s always been the one to brush Lance first. She’s the one who hugged him, too. Lance never really made a move to touch her first before.”

“He did hand her his jacket when we were out eating though.”

“Hm. True. Maybe they needed time?”

Keith runs a hand through his hair, somewhat frustrated. “How much time can they possibly need? Lance’s in love with her for three years by now, for fuck’s sake.”

Shiro nearly trips over his feet. “Three years?!”

“And I’ve been by his side through all of it!”

“Wow. This just... raised the stakes so much higher,” Shiro admits, having a completely new view of Lance, let alone of his friendship with Keith and the things they, too, had to endure.

Keith is openly glaring at Lance, and as if feeling eyes on his back, Lance turns and raises a questioning brow at him, only to earn an even heavier glare from Keith in return.

Hunk is non-stop yawning and Matt has to support him from tipping over so sleepy he looks, so they do not waste any more time for long goodbyes, but everyone agrees the movie marathon has totally been worth the effort. Lance and Keith fall easily into the dynamics of the group, as if they are two pieces of a puzzle they all have been missing for years, but now their circle feels... complete, all as it has been supposed to be for years.

The sensation is odd, but Shiro knows he’s not the only one thinking it – Allura glances at him with the knowing expression, as if she, too, remembers their morning talk.

With one final wave of their hands, Shiro and Keith fly off, Keith relaxed enough to rest his helmet-clad head against Shiro’s back as ATLAS makes its way through the blissfully empty streets.

 

Keith insists Shiro doesn’t drive him all the way to Keith’s building – they literally live so close they can see each other’s windows so there’s no need for wasting resources on a two-minute walk down the street. Shiro indulges him, only to disappear briefly into his buildings garage, making sure ATLAS’s anti-theft protocol is running (a special thanks to Pidge for writing it) and rejoins Keith outside.

The stars are out tonight, Shiro can still make out them through the city light pollution when he glances briefly up, but it is Keith who steals his attention away from them. Shiro takes a moment to admire the view, a little breathless at the sight of the golden lamp light dancing in Keith’s hair and across his jacket, bathing his lean, strong form in the otherworldly glow.

Perhaps Shiro has been alone for far too long and now is ridiculously thirsty, but there’s no mistaking of the power Keith, unknowingly, has over him. All it takes Keith is to flick the bangs out of his eyes and worry his bottom lip between his sharp teeth, lost in thought, unaware Shiro is back, and Shiro spends an extra moment reeling himself back in from the inappropriate fantasies before he addresses Keith.

“Any more Pacific Rim critique you want to share, Keith?” he attempts to joke.

“I think I’ve over shared today anyway,” Keith replies in the same fashion and tugs somewhat sheepishly at the straps of his backpack before taking it off. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to give you the entire day, Shiro.”

“Oh?” Shiro murmurs, poking curiously over Keith’s shoulder as he rummages through the contents of his backpack.

“First of all I need to apologize.”

“What for?”

“I might have stolen your buckwheat on accident.” Keith genuinely looks embarrassed as he hands Shiro the box he’s completely forgotten about until now. It takes him a moment to realize they’ve never remembered it was still in Keith’s backpack when they were telling their goodbyes after a long evening spent gaming and trading stories.

It’s hard not to laugh but Shiro can’t help himself as he cracks, sobbing the words out with effort, “Keith, you’ve been carrying it around this entire time?”

Keith seems not to know what to do with his own hands so he crosses them over his chest and his lips wobble, as he, too, tries to keep civil and not to join the giggling. “I’ve only noticed it today when I’ve been packing for the cinema so I kinda decided to bring it along... I guess?”

“I really,” it’s still hard for Shiro to speak though the tears, “I really appreciate you returning it. My buckwheat. Ah.”

He hugs the box to his chest, cradling it a little as if it is Black, and Keith looses it, too, laughter crackling in the air between them.

 _This is good. This is right,_ Shiro thinks as he allows himself to be free in the moment, glad, grateful he gets to share it with Keith.

“There’s also something else,” Keith manages after a few moments, still grinning, and takes out a list of paper from his sketchbook. “Here. This is for you.”

 Shiro takes it from Keith’s hands, his curiosity once again spiralling up as he readjusts the paper to find as much light from the street lamp as possible, and gasps a little as he realises Keith has given him a drawing.

It’s a render of Black holding court on the bookshelf in Shiro’s room, shiny coat rich and golden eyes regal, the expression so accurate and condescending it feels as if it’s the real cat staring back at him, the whole drawing done in colour pencils and Shiro knows the moment he gets into a properly lit room, he’s going to fawn over every line and the effort put into it.

“I’m so framing this,” Shiro says, finally ripping his gaze away from the gift and looking at Keith who is shy and cute and Shiro is riding all the dopamine. Shiro hugs him, tightly and brimming with glee, and murmurs his thanks into the crook of Keith’s shoulder, Keith’s hands finally wrapping around him after a few moments of startled amazement.

“Huh, you really like art, don’t you?” Keith breathes out.

Shiro makes an affirmative sound and reluctantly lets go of Keith. “I love this. Black looks exactly like the real one, with all that mischief and attitude.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Keith says earnestly.

They grow quiet again, but it is no longer awkward and tense as it used to be. They both are tired after a long day but still reluctant to say their good-nights, reluctant to have the good day end. Neither of them brings up Lance and Allura, their usual subjects for talking, and it’s liberating, in a way, because it isn’t just about them anymore. They are growing closer not just because of the mutual goal of matchmaking their pining best friends; they are spending time together because they want to. Shiro smiles, warm, happy, with a box of buckwheat and the drawing of his cat in his hands, and thanks the stars that shine on them for allowing him to meet Keith.

There’s an undecipherable expression on Keith’s features as he zips his backpack and hauls it over his shoulders, but as he straightens up, he smiles back at Shiro.

“Today was good, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“The movies were great, the snacks... And it’s pretty hard to admit, but I enjoyed hanging out with your friends.”

“They could be your friends, too, if you’d like.”

Keith blinks at his words, contemplating, his head tilted to the side and a curtain of black hair hiding his expression. “I’m not used to being around so many people – it’s always been just Lance and me, maybe Pidge sometimes but—“

“But?”

 “I really liked how it felt – to be in a group of people and feel like I belong, too.”

“Well, we’re mostly just a gang of misbehaved, barely functioning young adults,” Shiro admits, “but it’s just like Hunk has called it – a found family.”

Keith looks up at him at the last words, something sad and difficult to label dancing in his eyes.

“That sounds—nice.”

Shiro grins. “It really is. It might not always be that we all get to hang out together like today – everyone’s got either a job or college but when we manage to meet up – it’s like the highlight of the month, of the year even. I’m glad that you and Lance have been a part of it today – even if the gathering wasn’t what we’ve initially planned... It’s been good. It felt—“

“...like it was supposed to be,” Keith finishes.

Shiro hums in approval, once again wondering at what all of it means, but Keith looks up at the stars for a moment and then nods, curtly, more to himself than to Shiro.

“I think Lance liked it today, too – spending time with Allura’s friends, seeing her happy around them,” he stops, eyes narrowing at something he remembers. “Matt’s an ass though.”

“Yeah, he definitely is,” Shiro laughs and places his flesh hand on Keith’s shoulder, meeting his eyes. “Welcome to the family, Keith.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO SHAME AT ALL
> 
> it's been hard to figure Lt. Shirogane out - especially is i love him so much i just panic over not doing enough justice to him lol. i'll get there, eventually.  
> i often talk about writing this fic over at my [tumblr](https://voidslantern.tumblr.com), feel free to jump in in case you're curious


	5. a son of a i'm so sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please notice that i've upped the rating to explicit, and uh... this one is angsty, Keith deals with some grieving.

There are hands, strong and broad, sliding against Keith’s back, soothing out the tense muscles there, massaging away the little knots of pain and fatigue. Relaxed and comfortable, Keith purrs under the touch, marvelling at the sensation of the hot breath ghosting against his bare skin, followed by a wet kiss right between his shoulder blades, and it sets Keith’s blood on fire.

“Please—“ Keith hears himself beg. For what he isn’t sure but the strong hands flip him over in one smooth motion and Keith gasps, his mouth claimed in a heated, possessive kiss. The arousal shoots through his entire being, white hot and burning bright, his body arching into the palms that now explore his chest and torso, growing bolder the lower they slide oh so teasingly slow, until Keith loses the last remnants of his self-control and, never quite stopping kissing up into the heated, eager mouth, grabs one of his lover’s hands and guides it all the way down to wrap its firmness around his swollen cock.

Keith gets glimpses of rosy cheeks, and long dark lashes, and white, so much white, and there’s golden light shining around, all over, the light that seeps under his skin. He knows he loves it, loves the person he envelops in his arms, loves the security and warmth and trust between them. He finds his lover’s erection and wraps his fingers around it, pumping in sync with the hand on his own dick, working his way from the pre-come leaking head all the way down the broad shaft, smearing the wetness, panting in the air between them until they both are two sobbing messes, coming undone all over their bellies.

Keith moans against the broad shoulder, a soft, somehow familiar voice whispering little endearings into his ear, hot breath tickling him with every word. There’s so much intimacy, warmth, love between them, Keith feels tears gather in the corners of his eyes, happy ones, and soft lips kiss each of them away as they roll down his cheeks. A confession is ready to slip off of his lips when an obscenely loud noise startles Keith, and, frightened, he jerks awake.

Gone is the golden light, gone are the strong arms that held him. Keith’s room is pitch black and cold, his alarm ringing through its stillness. Keith is gasping for air, startled, hands reaching out in search of his soulmate.

All he finds are darkness and empty space, and it breaks apart his sad, lonely heart. It hurts to be loved and to love in return, and then come back and have it all ripped away in seconds, leaving scars and ache for something he’s never had but yearns for somewhere deep within, and Keith shudders with tears, curling up on himself and clutching his hands to his mouth in weak attempts to quench the sobs no one but he is going to hear anyway.

 

* * *

 

By Wednesday’s evening Keith is a mess of tired limbs and tired mind. The managers at work have been setting records even for their already high level of dickhead, and the customers have been even worse. One of the girls had to swallow down tears as a drunk douchebag yelled at her for asking for his ID (which he obviously didn’t have on him) and refusing to sell him his vodka without it, and Keith still rages every time he remembers that shift, that it took him leaving his own station and coming over to yell at the douche in return to make him to go away. Getting into trouble with his manager was totally worth saving the girl from that moron, and Keith doesn’t care if another reprimand gets him fired. He’s too tired, too angry to stay back and do nothing.

Lance has sent several texts to Keith during the last few days, asking to meet, but Keith’s been working all the time, and even now his head is hung low as he tries to figure out what to eat from the sparse food left in his fridge, so he just sends an apology, explaining he’s too tired to talk and he’ll see Lance at the art class. Lance replies immediately, all the sad faces and good wishes jumbled together, but Keith doesn’t have the strength to reply. He hasn’t had the strength for anything social since Sunday, and a part of him feels guilty for ignoring everyone while the wild, wounded part of him roars for every drop of solitude he can get.

After dinner, Keith is left with the mess of his tiny apartment he’s been neglecting to clean for the last week, and he attempts to organise and put away the stuff scattered across his desk, couch, and bed. He even finds some of his art textbooks thrown into the corner on the floor, and wonders when he has managed to do that. Afterwards, he cleans the floor in the entire apartment, dusts the shelves, washes the dishes and the kitchen counter, scrubs the stove and the sink, cleans the hell out of the bathroom until it is squeaky under his fingers. His body is aching anyway after three days of 13-hour shifts, but his apartment is tiny and he makes quick work of the cleaning, not quite admitting he’s gone into some kind of an obsessive mood over having everything pristinely clean. By midnight he’s finished with it, and he falls tiredly onto his old couch.

There’s no TV in his apartment, and he can’t be bothered to get up again to find his phone left somewhere in the kitchen, so he settles for reaching for his desk and grabs a pencil and his sketchbook. Allura has given them homework again, but Keith hasn’t even started doing it, so he draws various poses using the technique she’s taught them, and finds it is much easier to think of the body with planes and masses first and lines later.

Once he’s done with the poses, Keith is still not ready to go to bed even if it is getting late. He glances at his old laptop and a drawing tablet – a birthday gift from Lance – but he’s been ignoring it for months now, never quite having an idea for a digital piece. With a huff, he goes back to flipping through his sketchbook, cringing at how some pages seem to begin to fall out. There are about ten blank pages left, but this sketchbook has been through a lot with Keith in the past two years and he doesn’t want to part with it out of sentiment – even if he well knows its days are numbered, even if he’s already owns five new ones.

Keith’s older art is not much different from what he draws now – portraits, people, sometimes animals and birds. Starting an art class has given Keith the theoretical boost he’s always lacked, but he’s been doing anatomy studies for years so it’s all about practice and finding the right technique now. There’s a single constant in Keith’s art, though. He always draws fragments of – how he has later come to realise – one and the same person, a woman with strange, deep purple eyes and dark hair. He figures he’s imagined her, but his hand keeps drawing her when he doesn’t pay much attention and doodles absentmindedly. He’s never done a full portrait of the woman though, just little pieces that make up a puzzle. He’s okay with leaving it at that.

After a few bleak drawings of landscapes and horrible attempts at space ships, Keith’s heart skips a beat the moment he sees a portrait of his father. It’s been nearly a decade since his death, and his features are beginning to fade from Keith’s memory, but this portrait is a striking likeness. Big, kind eyes and thick brows, stubborn hair sticking in every direction, and the soft smile his dad kept only for Keith. It’s impossible not to stare at the drawing, missing his dad with his whole heart.

When Keith flips to the pages that bear the most recent of his drawings, he’s left scrutinizing every line and ends up fixing some of his sketches for another half an hour. He knows he’s stalling because if he turns the page there will be the gap in pages where he’s ripped out the first drawing of Shiro he’s done, and that there will be other doodles of him, never quite finished but still there, along with portraits of Lance and Allura he’s done over the last month, doodling them during the long chats with Shiro over Facebook when they’d talk about the antics of the two.

If he’s being honest, there’s more of sketches of Shiro there than of Lance and Allura combined.

It’s like finding a muse when you haven’t even been looking for it, but he draws Shiro sometimes and finds it’s like a therapy to soothe his always racing mind. He’s better not to tell Shiro though. Or Lance. Oh god, not Lance.

Keith picks a pencil again, flipping through the pages in search of an empty one, and begins doodling, mentally chanting not to draw the white-haired man again. A few minutes later he realises that he’s failed again, a smiling Shiro staring back at him from his sketch.

“Okay, that’s it,” Keith huffs and shuts the sketchbook. He is definitely going to need a new one for tomorrow’s art class.

 

* * *

 

“There you are, mullet,” Lance says, grabbing Keith by the elbow and dragging him into their corner at Allura’s studio. Keith doesn’t even get to say hi to her, and she watches them with concern in her expression, but there’s little Keith can do against the onslaught of Lance.

“I’ve been worried sick about you, man,” Lance says, glaring daggers at anyone of their fellow coursemates who dares coming within the earshot. “And judging by your fucked-up look I was right to.”

Keith only shrugs. “You know how my work can get—“

“You haven’t been answering any of my calls and all I’ve got from you is one tiny message that you’re tired, Keith,” Lance whispers with a tremble to his voice, and Keith realised that his friend is angry but tries to hide it.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been really tired and busy at work,” Keith repeats but Lance will not have any of it as he glares at him, blue eyes the colour of the ocean during a storm.

“You can’t fool me, Keith. I know you’re not telling me something.”

Keith tries to shrug Lance’s hand off but his grip is surprisingly strong. Exasperated, Keith sighs and glares back at him. “As I’ve said, I’ve been busy at work.”

“You’re a stubborn idiot, you know that?” Lance hisses. “Don’t you realise I want to help you?”

Keith keeps his mouth shut, fighting the urge to yank his hand free but Lance is his match in stubbornness – there’s a reason why they’ve been best friends for more than a decade now, after all.

“Did something happen? Was it at work? Or is it your landlord again?” Lance presses on but Keith only shakes his head. “Did something happen between you and Shiro?” Lance nearly growls it out and Keith snaps.

“Don’t drag Shiro into this, Lance. He’s done nothing to deserve an attitude like that from you.”

“THEN TELL ME WHAT’S WRONG, KEITH,” Lance yells, startling the people in the studio. Allura looks straight up worried but Lance shakes his head and apologizes.

Keith glares at his friend until he finally lets him go. Lance frowns, pinching his nose bridge with his index finger and thumb for a moment, but when he looks Keith in the eyes again there’s genuine regret in them.

“Fuck, I—I hate it when you close up on me, Keith,” he says after a while. “But maybe I deserve it.”

“What?”

“With this,” Lance gestures at the studio and looks to where Allura stands, talking to one of her students, “I’ve been so busy with myself like a selfish prick I—I haven’t really been there for you. I haven’t been the friend you need.”

Keith’s heart softens. Lance, always the first one to doubt himself.

“Please, Lance, don’t talk like that. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Then what is it?” he almost whispers again.

Keith wraps his hands around himself, as if trying to find the warmth that’s left his limbs before he speaks, voice cracking. “Tomorrow is the anniversary of my dad’s death.”

Lance’s face falls. “Oh god, Keith. I’ve completely forgotten. It’s ten years. Oh god, I’m so sorry—“

Lance rushes forward and grabs Keith into a tight hug, and Keith finds himself wrapping his arms around Lance’s lanky frame in return. “There’s nothing to apologize for, buddy,” Keith says. “Just let’s not cry in front of everyone?”

Lance snorts, pulling away. “Seriously, Keith. You and your goddamn lone wolf attitude.”

 

By the time Allura begins the class, Keith and Lance have talked quietly through their differences, and Lance even offers to drive Keith all the way to Texas where his dad is buried, and Keith can’t help but remind him sarcastically that the ride one way alone will be over sixteen hours long.

“Besides, I’ve already booked a plane ticket,” Keith adds, rummaging through his backpack for his art supplies as he tries to pay attention to one of the students asking something about a particular pose they’ve had trouble with.

“Oh. Are you sure you don’t need me come along?”

“I’m fine, Lance. This is something I need to do on my own.”

Lance looks at Allura, watching her explain something patiently. “Just be sure to call me, Keith, okay?”

“Yes, Mom—“

Lance tries to pinch Keith’s side but only ends up attracting Allura’s attention – and she definitely can be a different person when she’s teaching because she gives Lance no mercy as she asks him for his homework sketches. Keith only smirks at the small victory, watching Lance flush bright red as Allura critiques his work and gives advice on his mistakes. It only lasts this long, because afterwards Allura turns to Keith and it’s his turn to get burned over his mistakes, Keith quite reluctant to dive in for his old sketchbook since he’s only had the new one ready against his easel, and he takes an extra moment to make sure Allura doesn’t see any of the other of Keith’s drawings. If she does—

There will be no end to Keith’s embarrassment.

 

The class and Lance’s company seem to improve Keith’s mood, and he enjoys Allura’s lecture. Now that the group is more or less able to build a proportional figure, Allura has announced that they are moving on for the deeper insight of each of the body parts, starting right from the top – the head. Keith knows what it also means – he finally gets to draw portraits, and he’s correct. After the theoretical explanations of the anatomy of the head, Allura invites the models in, three people in total. Keith spies Shiro amongst them almost immediately, and it both makes him smile and kind of wonder if Shiro’s going to drag Keith for avoiding him ever since the movie night like Lance has, too.

Keith barely bothers to listen to Allura’s instructions and joins Lance and another coursemate he doesn’t know the name of to sketch out a girl with dusky skin and beautiful green eyes, only knowing they all have two hours to do portraits of each of the models. Shiro’s on the other end of the studio, the most of the female students crowding in around him, but Keith still feels his skin prickle each time Shiro looks at him.

They haven’t talked since the movie night much, Keith has only dropped a message saying he’s going to be working a lot this week and Shiro hasn’t tried writing to Keith, well aware he is busy anyway. Keith is glad of it, glad of the break after nearly a month of interacting with Shiro almost every day. It is so easy to get attached, to let a crush grow into something that won’t let Keith be idle about it, something that will demand action.

It is for the better to stay just friends with Shiro. For the feelings blooming between Allura and Lance that are too tender at this stage and do not need distractions and confusion by Keith mudding things up with asking Shiro out because ever since meeting him he can’t stop yearning to spend his every moment with him. For Shiro, too, because Keith is nothing but a burden, and even if there’s a chance that Shiro returns the feelings they won’t last long, disappointment with Keith and his brooding nature killing them right off.

 _Yes_ , Keith thinks as he finishes rendering his first portrait for the class and moves on to the next model, _it is for the better_.

Shiro smiles at him softly from across the studio and Keith’s heart skips a bit.

_Fuck._

 

There’s only one break for today’s class, and it is a blissfully short one, Keith spending it nose deep into his phone checking weather forecasts for Friday in Texas while he pretends to listen to the small talk of his coursemates. Allura and Lance spend the break discussing something animatedly, and Shiro seems to be trapped by a little gathering of fangirling artists around him. As long as Keith gets to postpone talking to him, it all suits his needs. When the break ends, Keith returns to rendering the portrait of a man in his late fifties, his dark skin bearing the marks of vitiligo.

By the time Keith has only Shiro’s portrait left to be done he’s the last one to get to him, everyone else catching up with the other two models. Allura laughs and calls Shiro quite the popular one, but Shiro parries that at least he gets to keep his clothes on this time. Keith just tries to prop his sketchbook against one of the easels opposite Shiro and begins to sketch out the guidelines.

After a few moments of watching Keith work, Allura squeezes his shoulder in encouragement and turns to her other students, leaving him and Shiro tête-à-tête at their end of the studio. It’s intimate, almost like it has been at the cinema, and Keith has to take a discreet deep breath to help himself concentrate. Shiro doesn’t speak, he just watches Keith quietly, and somehow it is even worse than the questioning Keith has been expecting. After a few minutes Keith snaps.

“What is it, Shiro?”

“Just wanted to say hi,” he replies with the same kind smile he always has. Insufferable, really.

Keith double-checks the length of Shiro’s facial scar and marks it on the rough, shape-only sketch he has made so far.

“Hi,” he mumbles, avoiding looking Shiro in the eye.

“Hi, Keith,” Shiro answers and shifts in his seat, leaning a little forward, his white shirt stretching over his pectorals. It’s a hard sight to look away from, but Keith manages anyway. “How are you?”

“Perfect, thanks for asking,” Keith mumbles, trying to copy the way how Shiro’s forelock is ruffled in that peculiar, gravity-defying way of his.

Shiro only smiles and keeps quiet for a while, and Keith is glad for it. He wonders if he can manage to pull off this portrait faster than the others and be set free, to hell with his and Lance’s little agreement of Keith playing the role of the sidekick. He has to be up early tomorrow for the flight, but his heart is already heavy with grim thoughts that have nothing to do with the amount of sleep he’s going to get tonight.

Shiro shifts a little again, and Keith frowns, trying to work around the slightly different angle, and then he notices that Shiro is looking at Allura and Lance.

“Those two seem to get along better and better with each week,” Shiro comments casually, Keith nodding curtly in reply. They really do. Only a blind person (meaning: Lance and Allura) can miss all the body language and the inner jokes, and Lance’s lovestruck eyes every time he glances at Allura without her being aware of it.

“Would have been nice to get them go out somewhere,” Keith says, working on Shiro’s eyes.

Shiro snorts, shaking his head briefly but stopping the moment Keith hisses at him in warning to keep still. “We must find a mutual goal for them, otherwise it might turn out as disastrously “not a date” as it did during the movie night,” Shiro states, and Keith can’t help but agree.

“Sending them on a hunt might be nice.”

“A hunt?”

“Like, I don’t know, for a book or clothing or whatever. Something hard to get, something they will need time to search for.”

“Hm.”

Shiro moves again and Keith finally snaps, “Dude, you’re seriously a much better model when there’s more than one person drawing you!”

Shiro pouts. “Sorry.”

He does keep still for a while, and Keith loses himself in the drawing, not really paying much attention to anything else. He only notices Shiro watching him from under his long lashes, but even that doesn’t distract Keith enough. As if realising that, or just getting tired of sitting, Shiro shifts in his seat again and it messes up the lighting, leaving Keith frustrated over losing the reference he needs to get the planes of Shiro’s face right.

“Does it take you to pose absolutely naked to keep still?” Keith comments sarcastically, enjoying how startled Shiro becomes before he realises what Keith means and flushes bright red.

“It’s not like that,” Shiro mumbles.

“Really?” Keith tries to correct his drawing and adapt to the different areas of Shiro’s face than now are in the shadow, and notices he hasn’t quite made the arches of his brows accurate.

“I’m just—happy to see you, Keith,” Shiro says after a few moments and Keith glances at him. Yes, Shiro’s brows are absolutely nothing like what he’s drawn.

“You’ve seen me this Sunday.”

Shiro huffs. “I guess I’ve missed you since then.”

Keith’s heart makes a little skip, his pencil hovering above the paper for a moment before he goes for the eraser.

“I hate your eyebrows,” Keith says instead of admitting he’s missed Shiro, too, and Shiro bristles.

“Excuse me?”

“I hate drawing your eyebrows. They are fucking weird.”

“They are not weird.”

“They totally are. They go straight, then up, then suddenly arch down and it’s a villainous angle I can’t get right.”

Shiro blinks a few times then bursts out laughing, and it’s contagious enough even the corners of Keith’s lips tip upwards.

“That’s it, Shiro. You’re fired,” Keith says, and decides to improvise the rest of the drawing since his model is such a hyperactive little shit today.

“Aw, c’mon Keith, I promise I will be good,” Shiro says, making sad puppy eyes and Keith sighs, shaking his head.

With all the distractions, he barely manages to finish Shiro’s portrait on time but there’s that little self-satisfied smirk on Shiro’s face that makes Keith realise he has been messing with him on purpose. The gall.

Allura makes quick job of checking everybody’s work, taking notes on what they are going to need to pay more attention to during their next class. Lance’s portraits are actually pretty nice, and there’s definitely an improvement in his shading and quality of lines, and Allura is quick to praise his today’s success. Keith is proud, too, and Lance beams. Once again, Keith’s artwork earns him extra bits of attention he really isn’t up for, but Shiro comes over to have a closer look and Keith’s cheeks heat when Shiro jokes about how the Shiro on Keith’s portrait is way prettier than the real one. Allura is quick to defend Keith, though, saying that Shiro looks exactly like that and the man seems to be left questioning his entire existence by her words.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Lance whispers to Shiro, all the teasing in his words, and Allura giggles despite trying to play the strict art teacher.

 

Keith frowns, contemplating if staying behind with Lance, Allura, and Shiro for their routine of cleaning the studio after the class is worth ruining their evening with his shitty mood, and decides that leaving early is for the better. He tries to be quiet as he puts his art supplies away into his backpack and is almost at the door when Allura calls him.

“Keith? Are you leaving already?”

Keith turns, awkward smile that is anything but genuine on his lips. “Yeah, I’ve a lot to do. Thanks for the class, Allura.”

She smiles, coming over to him and hugging, tightly. Keith allows himself to melt into it, seeking the strength he clearly lacks to face tomorrow, and as if sensing it, Allura only pulls away after Keith releases her first. “Stay safe, Keith,” she says.

Keith notices Shiro grabbing his jacket and walking up to him, even Lance watching the man with brows shot up in surprise. “Shiro, where are _you_ going?”

He freezes, as if not understanding the question. “I just thought—Getting Keith home?”

Lance bristles with laughter. “Okay, go on. Keep my buddy safe.”

“You know you don’t have to leave earlier because of me, right?” Keith frowns again.

Shiro looks back at Lance and Allura who are going about the studio fixing the easels and tucking them away into the backroom. “You guys will manage without us?”

“Of course we will,” Allura replies, shooting a grin at him.

“Yeah, we’ve got this,” Lance huffs from under the weight of multiple easels he tries to carry at once but tips dangerously over and Allura has to steady him. “This studio is going to shine the moment we’re done with it.”

Shiro turns to Keith with his brow raised in an “I’ve told you” way and Keith groans.

“Fine.”

He waves back at Lance and turns sharply on his heels, Shiro having to keep up with his quick pace.  They make it to the parking lot without uttering a single word, and Keith makes a beeline to ATLAS.

“Is everything alright?” Shiro finally asks as he unlocks the hoverbike and hands Keith his helmet.

“Yep.”

“Uh-huh.” By his tone alone Keith knows Shiro doesn’t buy it.

Keith only fastens the helmet on his head and climbs into his seat, arms crossed over his chest as he waits for Shiro but he doesn’t make a motion to join him.

“Do you want me to fly?” Keith questions impatiently. “Because I totally can.”

“Will that make you happier?” Shiro asks, head tilted to the side as he watches every little expression run over Keith’s face and no doubt betraying his thoughts.

“What? You serious? I uh—It’s been years.”

“Go on then. ATLAS is yours.”

Keith takes a moment to register what Shiro has offered to him but there’s a challenge in his eyes and Keith is so up for it. “You’re on, Shiro.”

Shiro leans forward, their helmets almost knocking together as he says, devilish smirk on his lips, “Scoot.”

He’s never seen Shiro’s face so close, and even the helmet’s visor cannot dim the sheer beauty that is Takashi Shirogane. Keith obeys without much of a thought, and once Shiro settles behind him, he relishes the way how strong thighs brush his, and how big Shiro’s hands are on his waist.

“Huh,” Keith manages, but doesn’t wait any longer, his nostrils flaring with a rush of adrenaline as he finally takes off, ATLAS a mighty beast underneath them. He’s seen Shiro fly enough times to not to have any problem with the controls, and Shiro cheers, welcoming the speed and the recklessness with which Keith makes the experimental lap around the parking lot before he turns them to join the traffic.

There’s little that is as soul-awakening as flying, and Keith doesn’t know how to properly communicate to Shiro how much it means to him that he’s let Keith fly today. How much it means to him before the visit to the lonely grave tomorrow, but for once Keith manages to compartmentalize and enjoy the moment, enjoy sharing it with Shiro.

 

* * *

 

It is quiet, and warm despite it being the second half of September. Keith has found the prettiest bouquet of carnations and now is hugging it tightly to his chest as he makes his way through the cemetery until he spots the familiar path, a lot more overgrown than it had been last year.

Once he finds his dad’s grave, he exhales, waiting for the tears that do not come, not yet at least, still a heavy burden on his heart. There are fresh flowers at the grave – roses, red and beautiful, and Keith is left wondering who could have visited, who could have remembered about the anniversary. He adds his own bouquet, making sure to position each of the delicate flowers into some kind of an arrangement only he can be satisfied with.

_Heath Kogane._

Keith traces the letters with his fingers, memories of his dad’s voice and smile and scent filling his senses.

“Ten years today, huh?” Keith murmurs. “I can’t believe it’s been so long, yet it feels like I’ve been mourning you for centuries now, Pa.”

Wind rustles the leaves and ruffles Keith’s hair, almost like a ghostly presence by his side.

“I’m doing well. Still working at that shitty retail job, but it pays the bills. I’m eating better, too, you’d be proud of my awesome biceps,” Keith flexes his arm, laughing under his breath though it comes out more like a sob. “Lance has dragged me to art courses, those are going great. I’m drawing just as much as I used to when you were around.”

Keith is silent for a while, busy swallowing tears down. When he speaks again, his voice is cracked and hoarse, barely recognisable to his own ears. “I think I’ve made some new friends, too. You would’ve liked them – they are so like what you and your firefighter team were to each other. There’s also this one guy—Ah, I probably—I think I’m falling in love with him, Pa.”

The sunlight warms his face and body, such a contrast to the vast void within that threatens to swallow Keith whole. He can’t form another word, bent over, forehead pressed into the stone. He lets all the grief and anger and loss pitter-patter to the ground with his tears, and it is too much, too overwhelming.

He screams, raw and wounded, and he cannot care less for any other cemetery visitors. Let them all hear it. Let them all know how much it hurts.

He screams until there’s no more air left in his lungs, until his throat is busted and all he manages is to gasp for air in raspy breaths, head spinning from the lack of oxygen.

 

Keith doesn’t know how much time has he spent at his father’s grave, but it is sunset by the time he realizes he needs to head to the airport or he misses his flight back home. A part of him still wants to stay, still wants to curl up over the grave in an attempt to find glimpses of the only family he’s ever known, but then Lance’s face comes before his mind’s eye and he sighs. _Found family_ , he reminds himself.

“Good-bye, Pa. I’ll see you next year,” Keith whispers, hand on the stone.

 

* * *

 

 

The flight back has Keith drifting to sleep despite his playlists blasting loudly in his earphones. Once he’s back on Arus’ soil, Keith takes a bus to Lance’s district.

Lance answers the door almost immediately, and Keith is relieved he doesn’t send him away because it’s getting late or asks questions. He simply opens his arms for a hug, and holds Keith exactly as long as he needs it, then leads him inside his apartment and offers a hot meal Keith practically wolfs down, having only eaten his breakfast before the flight.

Afterwards, they just sit quietly on the couch, watching Netflix without really seeing anything, and Keith falls asleep with his head resting in Lance’s lap as if they are kids again and are having a sleepover.

In the morning, Lance is extra caring and kind, though there’s no denying the concern in his eyes and Keith ends up a sobbing mess again, crying into Lance’s shoulder and telling him how the anniversary has wrecked him, how sorry he is for acting like a dick and shutting Lance out when he’s never deserved anything like that, especially not from Keith. Lance cries, too, gross and eyes puffed red, and Keith has no idea what has he done to deserve a friend like that but Lance makes sure to remind Keith that no matter what happens he can always turn to him, and he’ll always be there.

“Found family,” Keith gasps out, and he knows Lance understands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've made myself cry writing this chapter.
> 
> find me @ [tumblr](https://voidslantern.tumblr.com)


	6. i missed you more than i thought i would

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the measurements are in the metric system, your humble author is European.

It’s a sunny October day and Shiro can’t be happier now that he finally is in Keith’s company after three weeks of only seeing him at the art classes. The two of them settle down on one of the park benches to rest after a few hours of running errands all over Arus. Keith stretches his long legs in front of him, knocking the tips of his work boots together from time to time as they sip on the freshly bought coffee and watch the wind play with brightly coloured leaves, scattering them all round the small hill that overlooks a glassy lake.

Shiro checks his coat for the list of tasks that has been born out of Keith’s and Shiro’s decision to help Allura with some things she needs for an upcoming charity event she co-curates with her father, and crosses out another completed errand.

“Alright, we only have one thing left to do,” Shiro announces after he double-checks the list written in Allura’s fancy cursive.

“Which is?” Keith asks and takes a sip from the paper cup.

“Oh damn. Two hundred paper rosettes.”

Keith lets out a startled laugh. “Um, are we preparing for a revolution or something?”

“There’s also a comment – _pastel two-colours, 15/20,_ then there’s just – Keith, look – a star symbol, word _as_ and a heart symbol. What does this even mean?”

Keith snorts and takes the list and the pen from Shiro’s hands and doodles a rosette on the back as he explains. “ _Two-colours_ means that there have to be two layers to the rosette, like this,” Shiro nods as he watches Keith make quick work of the drawing. “ _15/20_ is the diameter for each layer and Allura wants stars to be at the centre to cover the conjunction –silver ones? Golden?”

“Allura hasn’t specified.”

“Then I guess we have the freedom to improvise.”

“We’ll need a lot of stuff for this,” Shiro muses once he understands Allura’s rather creative thought process. Without Keith and not particularly liking to admit his defeat to Allura in general, Shiro would’ve ended up hunting down Pidge and asking her to crack the code.

“Paper, ruler, glue, scissors, hot glue gun would be nice, too,” Keith names the items as he continues shading the rosette – Shiro figures it is one of artist habits to doodle absentmindedly to help the thinking process. It looks precious on Keith.  “I know a nice art store nearby – pretty affordable, too – we could get all the stuff there.”

“Okay, then we could go over to someone’s place and make the rosettes—“ Shiro blinks, feeling ridiculously awkward. “I might need to google how to actually—do that—“

Keith laughs, “’s not hard, I’ll teach you.”

“Oh, okay.” Shiro chews on his lip, cheeks heating up a little as he admits, “I’ve never been particularly good at crafting. Or at drawing. All that.”

Keith looks up at him when Shiro trails off, bionic hand going up to rub shyly at the back of his neck, a little smirk tugging at Keith’s lips and Shiro zero-ins on the sight of him again, so beautiful in autumn sunlight.

“Somehow I have trouble believing that.”

“That I’m bad at visual arts?”

“Yeah. From what I’ve seen of you so far, you’re perfect at literally everything you do – from flying your badass bike to styling whatever that fluff of hair is,” Shiro instantly pouts, gingerly touching his bangs while trying not to ascend to another plane of existence because... Did Keith just compliment him? Keith’s tone is humorous, yet Shiro can’t help but flush at hearing him say it. “So yeah, I bet you can draw, too, maybe you’re just not that much interested in it like you are in piloting and space.”

“You won’t believe me until you see it, right?”

Keith’s eyes briefly go down Shiro’s torso and the lower belly, the suggestive glance making Shiro squirm in his seat. “Nope, I won’t.”

_Oh my god._

Shiro hides his flushed cheeks behind his cup of coffee, focusing on enjoying the taste of the hot drink and the warmth of the sun against his skin instead of realising things about the extent of his crush on Keith. He glances at him from time to time, though Keith is completely losing himself to meticulously drawing out each of the rosette’s bends and angles, also adding stars of different shapes and sizes to cover the centre. The design is pretty, Shiro admits, and wonders how it will look like in life.

Minutes pass in pleasant, comfortable silence. The park is located at the heart of Arus, though it is large enough to stop the city noises polluting the air. An idyllic place to spend some time together. Keith is quiet, doodling away with the paper on his knee, and Shiro feels adoration steer within him, threatening to break through. Keith’s hair has grown out, and the curl at the ends is more pronounced now than it used to be. Shiro wonders about how it would feel like to run his fingers through the soft wave of it but cuts himself short the moment he notices something else.

There are also dark circles underneath Keith’s eyes again, something Shiro begins to consider a warning sign. It’s been nearly three weeks of Keith being either busy at work or too tired to maintain a lengthy conversation. Even at the art classes Keith has seemed distant and withdrawn, Lance throwing worried glances at him all the time. There were days when Shiro couldn’t help but think that maybe he’s done something wrong and now Keith is avoiding him, so he’d spent them miserable and aching all over, unable to soothe the longing no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much his own life had been challenging him. Shiro’s mind would always drift back to Keith, to all the moments they had shared, however little time has passed since they’d met. It has been a relief when Keith had messaged Shiro a few days ago, asking if they could hang out together – for the first time since the movie night.

Shiro finishes his coffee and finds himself wrapping the coat tighter around his body. The autumn wind picks up, and it gets too cold just to sit on the bench despite the lingering warmth of the setting sun. Keith is finally done with his drawing and hands Shiro back the list and his pen, and without much of a delay they head out towards the art store, Keith kicking at the leaves that get into his way like a kid would.

“So I’ve been thinking,” Keith says after a while as they walk the path to exit the park, the lake on their left reflecting the sunset sky and bathing everything in beautiful golden glow. “Allura confides pretty much everything to you, right?”

“Not exactly everything,” Shiro cocks his head to the side, wondering what is Keith getting at, “There are always things that stay private no matter how close is our friendship.”

“I didn’t mean the personal things,” Keith huffs, annoyed, “I was wondering if Allura’s ever told you what the final task – or the exam as she calls it – for the art course is going to be like.”

“Ah. Trying to cheat, are you?” Shiro teases, immediately getting Keith to bristle, fiery and cute.

“No, I’m not! I’d never—I’m just worried about Lance, would you please stop smirking like _that_.”

Shiro laughs as Keith attempts to shove him, though he somewhat miscalculates his strength and ends up staggering into Shiro instead, the impact making them sway a little on their feet as they exit the park grounds. Shiro’s heart skips a beat when Keith doesn’t immediately pull away from him, letting Shiro steady him with a hand on his elbow, Shiro’s laughter getting to Keith as he smiles crookedly, too.

“Honestly, though,” Keith continues as they make their way down one of the main streets, “I’ve been thinking that with all the anatomy practice we’re doing for the art course, I haven’t seen Lance use any medium but graphite pencils and charcoal sticks. Okay, a fineliner that one time he stole my sketchbook but that doesn’t really count.”

“So you’re worried that Lance will end up unprepared for the final task, especially if it requires a full painting?”

“Exactly.”

Shiro watches their reflection in one of the storefronts, a tall bulky he in a classy grey coat that does little to keep him warm, and a much leaner though almost just as broad-shouldered  Keith in ripped jeans and a beanie, for once without his backpack. Keith is strikingly handsome, and such a contrast to Shiro – where one is quiet and composed, the other is bright and intense.

“I’ve made a promise to Allura not to talk much about the behind the scenes of her course but—“Keith’s staring at him, hopeful and doe-eyed, the height difference between them forcing Keith to arch his neck to have a proper look at Shiro. “Keith, you’re really testing my morality right now.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just—Just nod if I guess right.”

Keith slows down before one of the shop windows and belatedly Shiro realises this is the art store. He pushes the door open, letting Keith walk in first, Keith brushing past Shiro, a faint scent of vanilla and sandalwood trailing behind him.

 _That’s just not fair_ , Shiro thinks as he follows behind, well aware he’ll never be able not to think of Keith every time he senses the scent combo, knees a little shaky as there’s another little thing about Keith that Shiro holds dear.

Of all the years of being best friends with Allura, Shiro rarely gets to go shopping with her for art supplies since she mostly orders them online. Watching Keith navigate through the rows and rows of various pens, pencils, paints, and things that Shiro hasn’t seen before and isn’t even sure what they are for – all of it is a new experience, unique in its own way.

Keith takes the lead of selecting the supplies they are going to need for the rosettes, Shiro sticking to carrying the basket since he’s pretty useless in selecting the right paper thickness or texture, let alone picking colours. Keith still asks for Shiro’s opinion while they browse through the available colours, picking one after another and asking how they look together until they end up with a nice pastel palette that is still vibrant and the hues compliment each other. Afterwards, Keith takes his time picking just the perfect paper for the stars, carefully comparing each of the metallic golds and silvers to the colours they already have until Shiro points at one that looks the best, shiny against all others, and Keith agrees.

“Now that the most difficult part is done,” Keith murmurs, tugging on Shiro’s sleeve to make him follow, “I’m going to interrogate you for a bit now.”

“Uh oh.”

They go for the aisles that are dedicated to the fine arts, brushes of various sizes, shapes, and bristles sitting in small holders on one of the displays. Next to them are the paints, hundreds of different tints and colours Shiro doesn’t know the names for, though he feels proud that at least he can tell the types of paints apart. Right behind are various canvases perched against the tall shelves – Shiro gapes at the gigantic formats, somewhat intimidated.

Keith stops in front of one of the smaller sized canvases, cocking his head to the side as he points at it.

“Hot or cold?”

It takes a moment for Shiro to catch Keith’s meaning. “Mhm. Warm.”

Keith steps to the larger canvases, repeating his question.

“Warm.”

Keith blinks briefly, eyes narrowing as he examines the sizes available, then points at the approximate medium size. “What about this?”

“Warm,” Shiro repeats again, snickering a little when Keith’s nostrils flare in annoyance.

“Either you’re messing with me or there’s no size limit.”

“Hot,” Shiro says, shuffling through the blank canvases and Keith nearly growls, yanking Shiro away from them and pushing towards the paints.

“What about this? Hot or cold?”

“Hm,” Shiro makes a scene of taking in the sight of various mediums, though his eyes are locked firmly on Keith’s face when he says, “hot.”

The reaction from Keith is many things, all etched across his features in a blend of expressions, although there’s no mistaking the faint blush that breaks on his skin, his violet eyes twinkling in both frustration and bashfulness. Keith curses lightly under his breath, though drags Shiro into the next aisle, this time with inks rather than paints.

“Cold.”

“Okay, now we’re getting something. Your morality is still in check, Shiro?”

Shiro places his flesh hand over his chest, supposing if morality has a place in a body, it should be where the heart beats. “It’s taken a blow but holds the ground nevertheless.”

Keith fights back a laugh, “C’mon, there’s one more thing I need to be sure of.”

They get lost briefly, Keith claims that there have been some rotations with the placement of mediums, and they find charcoals and graphite all the way at the back of the store.

“Cold,” Shiro states.

“Alright, so...It’s a whatever size whatever medium painting, though no dry or wet mediums.”

“That sounds strange.”

“It makes perfect sense—to me, at least,” Keith shrugs, walking past the aisles with inks back to the paint section, contemplating the assortment, Shiro trailing behind.

“Is this really enough for you to know how to help Lance pass his test?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Keith asks, his slender hand trailing over the oilpaints, tapping over a few of the colours with his long fingers. “I just need Lance to pick a medium so that we could work with it more.” His hand stops over one of the boxes with acrylic paints and he picks it up, examining closer. “It’s all about practice at this point.”

Keith’s face is graced with delight as he traces the names of colours of the acrylics with his fingers, expression so soft Shiro feels himself melt in its presence, unworthy of witnessing, though Keith visibly recoils when he turns the box over and sees the price tag, promptly putting it down.

“Now I just have to push Lance into the right direction,” Keith continues. “He’s going well with art – perhaps because Allura is encouraging and inspiring him, perhaps he simply has found his art mojo again. He’ll pass the test,” Keith says firmly and looks Shiro in the eye, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you for _not_ telling me, Shiro. I really appreciate it.”

Shiro beams, feeling warm and ridiculously happy. “Anytime, Keith.”

 

They make quick work of gathering the rest of the materials they are going to need for the rosettes. By the time they head to the checkouts, Shiro can’t stop thinking about the soft look Keith has had about him when he’s found that box of paints. It’s almost the same look Shiro’s baby brother Kuron wears on his face when he spots a book he loves, stroking the cover gently and flipping through the pages in a journey of revisiting one of his favourite stories.

It won’t let Shiro go.

He waits for an opportunity to slip away from Keith and get the paints though nothing has come out of it while he has been paying for their supplies, Keith always present by his side. It takes them to be already outside for Shiro to make a scene of claiming that he’s left his credit card back at the checkouts and run back in, leaving startled Keith with bags full of colourful paper.

For once, Shiro’s coat comes in handy as after he pays for the paints, he stuffs the box behind his belt and tries his best to cover it, the cashiers eyeing him with amusement until one of them says,

“Is that for your cute boyfriend?”

Shiro swallows down hard. “He’s—He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Is he?” the cashier draws out and Shiro flushes bright red, murmuring his thanks and dashing outside.

Keith meets him with his brows quirked in question, and Shiro thanks the stars it is dark enough for Keith not to be able to see the telltale tint of Shiro’s cheeks.

“Did you get your card back alright?” he asks as Shiro takes back the bag Keith has been holding.

“What? Oh, yes, yes, of course.”

Shiro can feel the weight of the box against his torso and smiles awkwardly. Allura has always said that Shiro is a terrible liar. It won’t take Keith long to catch up on that – even now he looks at him from under his bangs with a perplexed gleam in his eyes and Shiro is quick to change the subject, steering them towards the nearest bus stop.

 

After a bit of bickering during their bus ride over where they should go to work on the rosettes, they settle for Shiro’s apartment since it is a lot more spacey than Keith’s, though Shiro is still worried if Black misbehaves – he loves to play with paper, shredding it with his sharp claws. It might not go well with all the crafting they are about to do.

Once they are finally at the doors of Shiro’s place, he fumbles with the security code before he opens the lock and swings the door open, remembering he has to hide the gift from Keith. As if reading Shiro’s mind and knowing exactly what he needs in the moment of distress, Black comes over to greet them and proves to be a perfect distraction as he meows and nuzzles shamelessly against their legs, Keith immediately cooing and kneeling to greet the cat.

It is an awkward shimmy into the closet that Keith still notices, though the box of acrylics is safely tucked away between Shiro’s scarves before Keith can spy it.

“Shiro, what are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Ah. I see. Just sneaking into your own closet, all the usual stuff.”

“You can sneak in here, too,” Shiro offers as he pokes his head out. “Seriously though, give me your jacket and grab some slippers – the floor is bloody freezing in autumn.”

Keith takes his jacket off, revealing a simple black turtleneck underneath and doesn’t protest against the Christmas-themed home shoes Shiro hands him, far too amused by the fact that Shiro owns them in the first place.

“It is a gift from Matt,” Shiro explains as Keith puts them on and shakes one leg experimentally, the tiny decorative bells jingling merrily with each movement.

“Oh, that explains everything,” Keith says, an absolutely serious expression on his face and Shiro can’t help a laugh rumble through his chest.

Black meows, coaxing Keith into giving him another pet while Shiro hangs Keith’s dark red jacket and shrugs out of his own coat. He watches Keith and Black for a while, his heart warming at the sight of his cat so relaxed around Keith.

When Shiro had first met Black, he had been nothing but a six months old kitten, a starved ball of matted fur and sadness. Allura’s dad Alfor had found the poor creature left in a box a few streets down from his house and had been nursing the rescue back to health for a few days when Shiro and Allura had dropped by. It had taken Shiro one look into Black’s big golden orbs to feel the connection snap between them, and Alfor and Allura watched, stunned, as the kitten dashed to Shiro and hid behind his boots, his tiny claws setting firmly in the fabric of Shiro’s pants as he refused to let go. Shiro had refused to leave Black, too, and ever since that day more than three years ago Black and he live in comfortable harmony, loyal to each other to a fault.

“Alright,” Shiro finally speaks as he closes the closet behind himself. “I don’t know how about you guys but I’m starved.” Black purrs one last time at Keith and leaves him to nuzzle into Shiro’s legs demandingly until he picks him up. “I’ll feed Black and come up with something to eat for us, as well.”

“I’ll go get the stuff for rosettes ready then. Is the living room okay for this?”

“Yeah, sure. There’s also a writing desk in my room, there are some supplies you can grab from there, too.”

Keith glances in the direction of Shiro’s bedroom a little sheepishly. “Is that okay if I come in?”

“If I recall correctly,” Shiro says as he scratches under Black’s chin, the cat purring in bliss, “you were the one who told me not to treat you as a guest, so why are you even asking? Knock yourself out, Keith.”

“Ah, right. Yes,” Keith picks the bags they’ve brought and disappears into the living room, though Shiro still spies the bright red tips of Keith’s ears and chuckles quietly as he sets off to feed Black.

He can hear Keith rummaging through the rooms, and at some point Keith comes rushing into the kitchen, holding something in his hand.

“I can’t believe you’ve actually framed this!”

Shiro turns from the sink where he’s been trying to quickly wash the plates he’s left from the breakfast and notices the drawing of Black Keith has given to him on the movie night.

“Of course I did, I like it.”

“I thought you were joking!” Keith says, his fingers tracing the frame’s stylized engravings.

“Well, here it is – your artwork, framed proudly,” Shiro laughs but Keith looks at him with an unreadable expression.

“You do realise no one has ever framed my drawings before?”

The weight of the realisation hits Shiro hard, probably just as hard as it did Keith, and they stare at each other for an infinitely long moment until Black jumps on the counter and meows loudly at them, demanding to be fed.

 

After everyone has eaten, Keith shows the working space he’s made in Shiro’s living room.

The coffee table, while rectangular and quite large, is still too narrow to fit all of the stacks of paper they’ve bought, so Keith has ended up sacrificing the couch to fit all of the materials on it, though it leaves barely enough space for one person to sit on the couch. All other sitting furniture in Shiro’s apartment is too tall to be comfortable to use while the coffee table itself is less than half a meter in height.   

“I can sit on the floor,” Keith offers. “I’ll need to measure and cut the paper so it will be more comfortable if I—“

“Nope,” Shiro cuts him off and disappears into his bedroom, coming back with a warm blanket he lays on the floor between the couch and the pushed back coffee table. “We both are sitting on the floor.”

“What happened to not treating me as a guest?” Keith asks as Shiro sets up Spotify to play some background music and sits down, cross-legged, Black immediately padding over to investigate.

Shiro looks up at Keith, tucking away the sight of how the rolled up sleeves of Keith’s turtleneck expose the lean, strong muscles of his forearms, quite a few moles and beauty marks peppering his skin.

“Nothing’s happened to it,” Shiro says, getting comfortable as he rests his back against the couch. “Come over and sit your ass down already, Keith.”

Keith bristles, flickering his bangs away from his face as he storms by to sit by Shiro’s side, much closer than he’s anticipated him to though Shiro can’t help but enjoy the occasional knee or elbow bump with Keith.

Behind them, Black jumps on the couch and sniffs at the papers – Shiro is about to get up and shoo him away lest he begins playing with it – but thankfully Black just eyes Shiro and Keith for a moment, a little too judgementally for Shiro’s likes, and with a flick of the tail excuses himself to the kitchen.

“You okay there, Shiro?” Keith asks as Shiro exhales in relief.

“Yeah. Just keep in mind that Black loves to play with paper, so we’ll have to watch him unless we want all the rosettes to have a nice shredded effect.”

“Oh. Alright.”

Keith looks around the table and fishes out a pencil and a ruler and grabs at a random list of paper. “So. Making rosettes is pretty simple, and even if you make mistakes it is easy to conceal or fix them.”

He quickly measures and cuts the paper in three strips and turns to Shiro, with quick deft movements showing him how to fold the strip. Shiro picks one, as well, and tries his best to mimic Keith, though it takes him a moment to figure out the right way how to go about the delicate way he has to fold the paper with his prosthetic until by trial and error he finds the right level of pressure to apply to make it work. Once they end up with three folded pieces, Keith glues them while Shiro is holding them together. When Keith glues the ends of the first and the third strips together Shiro makes a little _oh_ sound as Keith gently presses on the centre of the rosette until it fans out in Shiro’s hands.

“See? Easy and neat,” Keith says, grinning up at Shiro. Shiro turns the pale blue rosette in his hands, marvelling at it, then glances behind him at all the other colours they have.

“We need the second colour.”

“Mhm.” Keith turns in his seat, shamelessly invading Shiro’s space as he shuffles though the stacks of paper, mumbling something under his breath until he fishes out the pale pink paper. “This looks okay?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t it?”

“I mean, all that colour theory bullshit that the complimentary colour to blue is orange but fuck it, really, I like pink and blue together.”

Shiro snorts. “Why am I not surprised?”

Keith narrows his eyes as he sits properly again, making Shiro miss the warmth they’ve shared while being in each other’s orbit. “What that’s supposed to mean?”

“Lance has warned me that you and rules do not go well together,” he comments as casually as he can. “He’s never been more right.”

Keith bristles, cutting the paper with less precision than before which only prompts him to curse under his breath over the ruined strip. “Yeah, you listen to Lance now.”

“Well, I’ve barely seen or heard from you in almost a month, Keith, so, yeah, I’ve ended up asking Lance about you.”

“Oh.”

Shiro studies Keith’s closed off expression and still sees the turmoil in him that Keith still fails to control, to hide behind the walls and shields he’s built around himself.

Carefully, well aware he’s threading on thin ice, Shiro continues. “Lance has been as vague as he can possibly be but—I’ve got the impression that something happened and you’ve—“

“Shut everyone out, as I always do,” Keith finishes, voice barely above a whisper. He looks at Shiro, a brief glance that is more meant to check if Shiro’s angry or judging, but he’s not – he makes sure to show it to Keith with everything he’s got, and the tense set of his shoulders eases a fraction. “I guess I owe you an explanation.”

“Keith, you don’t owe me shit and you know that.”

He huffs, running a hand through his black hair, Shiro following the motion with a bit more attention than he is willing to show. “It’s not like that, Shiro. I don’t want to fuck up—“ Keith cuts himself off, toying with a piece of paper with a frown in the creases between his thick brows. “I don’t want to fuck up the way how you think of me.”

“Taking time for yourself is hardly a thing that ruins the way how people perceive you, Keith,” Shiro says, passionate despite being reluctant to scare Keith off but it’s been a long time without him and Shiro ached and missed him so much he has no control over the yearning to show it to him, to convince Keith that he is welcomed, that he is needed.

“Even if I’ve been a complete dick about it and disappeared without a warning?” There’s a bite to Keith’s tone but they both know he doesn’t mean it.

“Keith—“

“Lance has told me about you, too,” Keith says, avoiding looking at Shiro again. “How worried you were, both you and Allura, and I know you don’t do it to people you’ve spent months talking to almost every day. I should have explained. I shouldn’t have ignored and avoided you all. I’m sorry.”

Keith’s voice drops to a whisper, low and broken, and Shiro leans to him, slipping his prosthetic hand around Keith’s shoulders and guiding him back into his space. Keith is tense for a moment and Shiro panics – this is it, he’s overstepped a boundary and now Keith will turn away from him for sure – though a heartbeat later Keith relaxes into him, nuzzling closer.

“Keith, it’s alright. No one is asking you to push yourself for someone else’s benefit. If you need your time – you go and take it. However long it takes, however many messages you ignore, if you need space – you’re getting it.”

Keith is quiet and warm, the sandalwood and vanilla scent of his shower gel finding its way to Shiro’s senses again and he breathes it in, the notes of Keith unmistakable underneath.

“I’m not perfect, Keith,” Shiro says. “I have scars, both physical and mental, and my bad days are happening more often than when they do not, but I want you to know – whatever is happening – with you or with me – I’ll always be there for you, Keith, no matter what.”

When there’s no reply from Keith, Shiro pauses, picking the right words. “I’m glad that you’re feeling better to hang out again, Keith,” Shiro murmurs into his hair. “And I’m sure Allura will be thrilled to see you again, too.”

Keith lets out a little sound, so soft and quiet Shiro can’t even tell if he’s imagined it, though when Keith speaks again, his voice trembles no matter how much he tries to fight it. “The reason why I’ve been like this– I guess I do it every time something happens and I don’t know how to deal with it, but...” He takes a deep breath, and Shiro offers a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder. “My dad died, in September ten years ago. You’d think that’s a long time and I should be over with grieving but I can’t. Every anniversary wrecks me apart, so I’ve run. From Lance, from Allura, from Pidge... from you.”

“Keith—“

There’s so much pain laced in Keith’s every word and it resonates within Shiro, within the hollow spaces his own life has left in him. He rests his head against Keith’s in a perfect fit and Keith melts into it, the last threads of tension easing off of him until he wraps a hand around the small of Shiro’s back.

“I’m so sorry, Keith.”

“Thank you, Shiro.”

 

It takes them a while to work on the rosettes, Shiro struggles through folding but refuses to give it up, much to Keith’s amusement. By ten in the evening they barely have a hundred rosettes done, and Shiro’s entire living room looks like an explosion of colour.

 _Whatever Allura needs them for it is better be worth it_ , Shiro thinks as he stacks the finished and dried rosettes into a box he’s lucky to find free of Black’s grabby paws.

Keith’s mood has improved significantly, as if an invisible weight that’s been pulling him down is finally eased off of his shoulders, and while Shiro is reluctant to take the credit for it, Keith is the one who looks at him with gratitude now, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. Shiro grins, too, thinking of the box of paints tucked away, waiting to be presented to Keith, and his heart is light and happy.

They chat casually through the evening, and once Shiro’s playlist ends, Keith shares his own. More than a third of the songs there are labelled as explicit, and lyrics often make Shiro’s cheeks burn, but Keith only shrugs innocently, humming along to the inappropriate tracks.

Black has tried to whisk some of the crafts away but has been successfully distracted by a bow tie toy made out of paper scraps and a thread attached to it. Keith laughs while Shiro and Black fool around, and even the picking up wind and pitter-patter of autumn rain against the windowsill doesn’t seem to affect the light-hearted mood that settles over them.

 

By midnight, Shiro’s flesh fingertips begin to ache and his back is stiff, and Keith is nowhere better – he’s on the point of rage quitting his stubborn green-yellow rosette, until he lets out a groan and drops the hot glue gun, sending pencils and scissors skittering across the coffee table and falling to the floor.

“Dammit,” he huffs, rising on his elbows, round ass up in the air for Shiro’s viewing pleasure as he reaches over the table to collect them. “I think if I make one more rosette today I’ll go insane.”

“Same here,” Shiro murmurs, trying his best to look as innocent as possible when Keith sits back down.

“And look at the time,” Keith continues. “You’re probably working tomorrow, I’m best to get going.”

Shiro nods, glancing at the raging shower outside in concern. “Are you sure that you want to go outside in this weather? There’s a bunk bed in the guest room, after all.”

“I literally live down the street, ain’t no rain gonna scare me,” Keith says as he gets up, groaning that his legs are too stiff and waver under his weight. “Fuck, that’s a lot of paper rosettes,” he adds as he surveys the room. “Have you been keeping count of them?”

“No. Have you?”

“No—“

“Fuck,” they say simultaneously. Shiro’s too tired to be annoyed on full, so he climbs to his feet and stretches, his tired muscles groaning and straining at the movement. “I’ll count them later, then. If we’re short some—“

“—I’ll come over and help with them,” Keith offers and Shiro grins.

“I’d like that. And oh,” Shiro figures if there’s a time to give the paints to  Keith it is now so he dashes over to grab them and returns, hiding the box behind his back. “I’ve something for you, Keith.”

Keith’s violet eyes are wide and confused. “Wait, isn’t it a little early? My birthday is in two weeks.”

Shiro freezes. He’s had no idea Keith’s birthday is approaching, and even Lance hasn’t mentioned it to him.

“Um, it’s—unrelated to your birthday,” he says awkwardly and presents Keith with the acrylics, startling him to a point when his soft lips part in surprise as he stares at the paints and then up at Shiro.

“That’s why you ran back into the store?”

Shiro blushes, nodding sheepishly. “You’ve had that look on your face like you’ve found a gem and it wouldn’t leave me alone so I just had to get them.”

“But—That’s Windsor & Newton!”

“Yes?”

“They are expensive as fuck!”

“And I want you to have them,” Shiro grins while Keith gapes at him, taking a step back.

“No way, no, I can’t accept this, it’s too expensive and—“

“Keith, hey, hey, listen,” Shiro reaches for Keith’s strong forearm and grasps it, gently, in an attempt to soothe him back. “Do you remember how once you’ve told me that you rarely do paintings these days?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Do you remember how I’ve said that I’d love to see you paint again, too?” At this, Keith flushes, only nodding curtly in response. “You’re always so supportive of Lance but I think you need encouragement just as much so— I’ve seen how much you liked these paints back at the store and I couldn’t just leave them behind.”

“Shiro, what are you—“

“Keith, please accept them. If not as a gift, then maybe— Keith,” Shiro releases Keith’s arm and puts his bionic palm over the paints, “promise that you will pick up painting again. You’re—incredibly talented. Smart. Your art is unique, it’s as if each piece has a soul of its own and I find myself swept away every time I see your artwork. Don’t give up on it, Keith. Don’t give up on yourself.”

Keith is looking down, black brows knit together and Shiro counts his breaths as he waits for Keith’s response. Slowly, Keith lifts his hand and places it gently over Shiro’s artificial one, giving it a squeeze that registers in his brain and translates as something tingling but firm and it sets Shiro’s heart into a frantic beat. When Keith meets Shiro’s eye, there are deep thoughts hidden underneath their surface, fragile, sad even.

“Shiro... Are we friends?” Keith asks and it catches Shiro off-guard, though his heart aches at the vulnerability in Keith’s voice.

“I’d love to be your friend, Keith,” he says and means every word.

He doesn’t want to push Keith, to suggest to be something more out of his selfishness, because what he feels for Keith, ultimately, is selfish, and demanding that all the time that is left of Shiro’s life is to belong to Keith, all that he is – or what’s left of him – would be Keith’s, as well.

Keith exhales, as if the waiting for Shiro’s answer has had him holding his breath.

“I’d love to be yours, too.”

 

Later that night, Shiro is wide awake, replaying those words over and over again in his head, searching for the double meaning even though there cannot be one, that same selfish part of him yearning for Keith in new kinds of sweet desperation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shiro's given keith [these acrylics](https://www.ebay.com/itm/Winsor-Newton-Artists-Acrylic-Set-12-x-20ml-Professional-Acrylic-Paints/331284011228?epid=16018286298&hash=item4d2210d8dc:g:TYcAAOSwQItT5I7F).  
> sorry it took so long to post the update, this chapter has been messing with me for weeks until i've thrown out half the plot i wanted to squeeze into it so... there gon be more of those two hanging out together ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> hopefully i will have enough time this month to update a bit more often.
> 
> find me @ [tumblr](https://voidslantern.tumblr.com)


	7. and oh, stupid things I do

Next day, Keith finds his largest scarf and wraps it tightly around his neck before going out to meet with Lance and Pidge, though a glance at his phone screen has him rolling his eyes. Pidge has invited Hunk, and Hunk has obviously had to invite Allura and Shiro. Quickly, Keith types a text to Lance, suggesting he puts his best, tightest jacket on for Allura’s sake and sighs at his own ruffled reflection in the mirror.

He’s barely slept the night, busy to warm himself after a two-minute run under the icy cold rain that had his teeth chattering, busy to stare at Shiro’s gift with the stupidest grin he’s ever had. If Lance has seen Keith at that moment, he would have no doubt laughed his ass off. Keith glances at his desk spying the acrylics and smiles again.

Of all the things Shiro can possibly do, he picks finding all the little ways to win Keith’s affection and gratitude, be it a gift or the encouraging words that come along with it. If anything, Keith knows deep down that Shiro’s words, Shiro’s passion and conviction with which he spoke have left a mark on Keith, stirred the long-forgotten competitiveness to do better with his art. Perhaps Keith will use those paints on the final piece for Allura’s class. It makes sense, after all - he’s met Shiro there.

Keith reads Lance’s reply and snorts, shaking his head.

                L: _Ohhh, in that case, I hope you’ll bring your strawberry chopstick bc I know a certain white-haired man really thirsty to try it out_ ~~~

                K: _Your grandpa?_

                L: _EW KEITH NO_

 

Lance grins and wraps his hand around Keith’s shoulders briefly as they settle in a booth at The Lion’s Diner, giving him an encouraging squeeze before letting go. Keith smiles in return and watches Pidge and Hunk climb into the seats opposite from them, Shiro and Allura texting their apologies for being late for the lunch. Hunk, for once, is having a day off, and Keith watches him curiously as Hunk tries and fails not to react to the orders being made and his co-workers dashing past them. It doesn’t escape Pidge’s attention, either.

“Hunk, can you relax just once in your life?” she asks as she sets up her tablet on the table and begins typing at the inhumanly fast speed.

“I am relaxed!” Hunk protests, shoulders hunched down as he pouts, staring at the scratches left in the worn wood of their table.

Lance leans on his elbows, one brow raised as he says, “Hey, how about you tell us what’s on your mind?”

Hunk looks up at Lance, and Keith marvels at the warm chocolate of his irises. “Would you even be interested in hearing that?”

“I would,” Pidge says, and Keith finds himself nodding along with Lance, too.

With a grateful smile, Hunk exhales, and sets his broad hands on the table, weaving his fingers together as he composes himself before speaking. “Well, it’s mostly about the diner. My parents have been meaning to expand the network for a while, and sort of revamp this place altogether,” he glances at the waiter that brings them their orders, Keith immediately reaching for his mac and cheese and diving into it with a starved man’s ferocity, while Lance is pointedly mannered.

“So, what’s got you so riled up about it?” Pidge tears her eyes from the screen and looks at Hunk.

“Well, they kinda have left the diner to me. As in I’m responsible for working on it. Making it better. All that.”

“But that’s great, right?” Keith says with his mouth full, earning a disapproving glare from Lance.

“Well, yes—“ Hunk admits. “It’s all I could ever dream of. I love this diner, it’s where I want to be, you know. But Mom and Dad have given me full reign and it’s a bit—“

“Overwhelming? Please, Hunk, you’ve been the de facto boss here for as long as I’ve known you,” Pidge mutters, putting her tablet aside and reaching for her plate. “It won’t take you long to fully realize it now that it is official.”

“Yeah, man, you gotta believe in yourself,” Lance adds and Hunk smiles, finally untangling his anxious fingers and picking up a fork, ready to dive into his apple pancakes.

“Well, I’m still going to get my butt kicked if the renovations do not go that well,” Hunk muses.

“Hire an interior designer and let him do all the work.”

“Or Keith here,” Lance adds to Pidge's suggestion that makes Keith choke on his food.

“What?! Why me?”

“You’re good with art. You've got that knack about you in selecting just the right thing.”

Keith is torn between glaring at his best friend and feeling ridiculously shy at the matter of fact way of how Lance brings up the option.

The fact that it _is_ an option and Keith has no doubt about it comes a heartbeat later, when he notices the evaluating look in Hunk’s eye that instantly makes a friendly lunch feel like a job interview instead.

”Hunk, what are you doing?” Keith stammers out.

“Thinking.”

“No. Stop.”

Lance and Pidge are quiet, though there are sparks of amusement dancing in their eyes in equal measure. Keith can't forgive their betrayal.

“Shiro’s always saying that your art is outta this world, and I know Shiro – if he says it, he believes it,” Hunk says, and Keith can't believe his eyes at the change within him from the shy gentle giant to a cunning diplomat in seconds. “I also know for sure Allura values you as one of the most promising students at her art course.” At that, Lance bristles, though Hunk shrugs it off.

“I stand with Allura and Shiro on this, too,” Pidge says, flipping her bangs out of her eyes. “Keith has brought his sketchbook to work once and we've been flipping through it together at lunch break and let me tell you—”

“Keith,” Hunk looks him dead in the eye and Keith gulps down nervously, “would you like to be my art and interior design advisor during the renovations?”

“Uh, I—”

“Yes. His answer is yes,” Lance cuts in and it is like sealing a deal with the devil. Hunk rises in his seat, offering Keith his hand, and as if on autopilot Keith gets up, too, and shakes it.

“What did I miss?” Shiro's amused voice cuts through the air and it startles Keith, sending waves of hyper-awareness of Shiro's every movement down Keith's senses until he shoots a grin his way and it sets Keith aflame.

“Oh, you know, Hunk’s just hired Keith, all the usual stuff, Pidge says, scooting closer to Hunk so Shiro can sit at the table with them.

“Oh, really? Congratulations!”

Keith lets go of Hunk's hand and sits down, hiding his flushed cheeks with his palms as he mumbles that it was a spontaneous act.

Hunk smiles, gentle again, and adds, “There’s also a bartender vacancy open in case you're interested in getting out of that hellish place you're working at with Pidge.”

“Gosh, I'm so glad my contract ends soon—” Pidge says, a dreamy look in her eye. Keith doesn't like the prospect of her leaving him all alone at the Balmera Mall's store - she's been his only highlight and friend there for nearly two years now, and having her go makes him dread to continue working there without her. Yet all the while Keith is happy for his friend – she’s finally reached her goal of saving up enough money to be able to afford that powerful gaming PC she’s been drooling over for a while now.

Keith lets out a startled laugh. “Hunk, as far as I know, job interviews kinda require the candidate’s CV at the very least.”

“Pfft, please,” Hunk waves him off. “All I need to know is that you have experience in retail and you’ve all your health check-ups passed.”

“Well, yeah, but—“

“Keith, shut up and take Hunk’s money,” Lance says, getting everyone but Keith burst out laughing.

“I didn’t even ask for this. It all is so sudden.”

“That’s how it is like with this gang,” Shiro says encouragingly to Keith, and he realises that despite the overwhelming force of the personalities of the people in their circle, Keith doesn’t want to be anywhere else but with them.

“Alright,” Keith finds himself saying. “I’ll talk to my boss and sign the paperwork for quitting that hell job as soon as I can.”

“Hey, let’s quit on the same day!” Pidge offers, her toothy grin infectious.

“Thank you, Keith,” Hunk says, and Keith marvels at his first ever art job offer, let alone the first time in his entire life a position being offered to him instead of Keith, as always, doing his best to hunt down a more decent position and getting declined over and over again.

They have been chatting for a while when Allura joins them, though her usually bright eyes are dim today. Even Shiro looks concerned when she gives him a peck on the forehead without the customary teasing remark and slides quietly into the seat next to Lance.

“Is everything alright, Allura?” Lance asks, visibly worried.

She’s silent, a brief pause that betrays how lost in her thoughts she actually is. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Are you sure? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Allura sighs, pinching her nose bridge with two delicate fingers. “I’ve run into Lotor on my way here.”

Shiro goes impossibly still, only exchanging a quick look with Keith. They have talked about Lotor and Allura before and Shiro has explained to Keith the extent of Allura’s resulting trauma after their relationship, though Lance is yet to find out about the two. The moment is tense.

“How did it go?” Shiro asks carefully, his tone gentle as he watches his best friend.

She huffs, shaking her head. “To be honest? I was terrified. Not for myself but for him. Something is horribly wrong and I can’t stop thinking that Lotor needs help, no matter how much he denies it.”

 _No matter how much he’s hurt you before,_ Keith thinks. Allura’s strength is inspiring, though Keith doubts he’d ever have that in him to reach out to the person who’s brought him misery and wish well on them. Perhaps his little bitter heart just can’t do a gesture as good as this.

Hunk and Pidge exchange a look, a silent conversation going between them, and Keith senses how painfully tense Lance is by his side. Shiro has his eyes trained on him and it feels like a test – what will Lance do? How well will he react to Allura being so worried for her ex? Keith doesn’t realise he has been holding his breath until he exhales in relief when Lance reaches out a hesitant hand to place on Allura’s shoulder.

“I believe in you, Allura, we all do, and,” Lance glances at their little circle, each as sincere and resolute as he is, “if you ever need assistance or support – we’re with you on it. One hundred percent.”

Keith catches Shiro’s eye and there’s a smile in the corners of his lips. Keith offers one of his own and feels pride for his friend stir within as Allura accepts Lance’s support with a sweet murmur of thanks, though she changes the subject of their conversation to a lighter one soon afterwards, Shiro being somewhat smug as he asks everyone to be online in the evening without explaining what for, no matter how much Pidge tries to bully the answers out of him. Keith can’t help but snort a little and make a mental note to doodle later an impossibly tiny Pidge sitting between tall and broad Shiro and Hunk.

After the lunch, Shiro catches Keith for a conspiratory little conversation as in hushed whispers they discuss the developments between Allura and Lance, both wondering that their friends might have had a talk of their own about Allura’s past relationship, both eyeing the two of them in careful consideration.

“Do you think she’s also told him that she’s broken up with Lotor a lot sooner than we’ve initially believed?” Keith asks, leaning against Shiro’s bike as they stay behind everyone else in the parking lot, Hunk and Pidge having dashed over somewhere in an excited rush.

“I think yes,” Shiro replies, the autumn wind playing in his white hair. Keith feels heat building somewhere deep within himself at how ridiculously handsome Shiro is. “There’s no reason for Allura to keep it a secret for so long, after all, and given how rapidly Lance and she are growing closer – he probably knows as much as you and I do by now.”

“No way Allura’s told Lance more than you,” Keith laughs out. “You’ve been her best friend for over a decade, for fuck’s sake.”

Shiro considers it, then shrugs. “Yeah, you’re right. Nobody can beat me at that.”

Keith snorts, cuddling tighter into his scarf. The sun is out again after yesterday’s heavy shower, though the chill has settled over Arus that cannot quite be undone by the sun’s warmth, and it creeps under Keith’s skin settling firmly in his lungs with each breath he takes. Yesterday, he basically ran home under the icy cold shower after having declined Shiro’s offer to stay the night, and now he genuinely regrets it, the beginnings of a cold making his thoughts fuzzy. He’s too stubborn to give in to it, yet he can feel the numbness settle over him, the ache in his throat making it hard to swallow.

Shiro’s quiet for a brief moment, chewing on his full bottom lip as Allura laughs at something Lance says and they wave their goodbyes at Shiro and Keith, the boys replying in kind.

“I’ve spent half the morning counting the damn rosettes, by the way,” Shiro says, so much teasing to his tone as he turns back to face Keith.

“So, how did we do?”

“Not bad – one hundred seventy-three complete rosette, but there could’ve been more because uh,” Shiro pats through his pockets for his phone and scrolls down it until he motions Keith closer to look at the screen. Keith is busy savouring Shiro’s scent, always fresh and today with a floral undertone Keith can’t quite pinpoint. “There has been an accident.”

Keith stares in disbelief at a picture of Black sprawled leisurely across the couch in Shiro’s living room, at least a dozen of rosettes – probably the ones they’d left there to dry up a bit – shredded to ribbons.

“Oh no. How many?”

“About fourteen.”

“Crap.” Keith makes a face, counting in his head. “We’re at least twenty seven rosettes short. When the hell are we going to make them?”

“Keith, relax. The deadline is on Tuesday, we have plenty of time.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got a lot of shifts coming up. Like, a lot.”

Shiro smiles sadly in understanding and pockets his phone. “How about later today? I’ll need to make a detour to see my docs after work but after that..?”

Keith shrugs. “Sure. Call me when you’re free.”

“You’ve got it.” Shiro fastens his helmet in precise, quick movements, and climbs into his seat. “By the way – choosing to work with Hunk? That’s a good call. You won’t regret it.”

Keith lifts himself from where he has been leaning against ATLAS’s wing and stuffs his hands into his pockets, searching for all the additional bits of warmth he can get as a gust of ice cold wind hits them, sending leaves spiralling up in the air. How does Shiro fly on a hoverbike in the weather like this is beyond Keith, but perhaps the man just loves his flying far beyond being concerned about catching a cold.

“Hunk is yet to ask for my CV, let alone have a proper job interview. What if I’m not suited to work at his diner?”

“What if you are?”

Shiro is lucky Keith likes him because every fibre in his being itches to wipe that shit-eating grin off of Shiro’s smug face. “As I’ve said, Hunk doesn’t know me that much to just hire me without doing any research.”

“Okay, you’re stubborn, I get it,” Shiro’s short laugh trills through the air and Keith is too busy blinking away the surprise of liking the sound so painfully much. Shiro leans closer to Keith in his seat until they are staring straight into each other’s eye. “And I’m stubborn, too, and I think you’ll do great at Hunk’s.”

With a roll of his eyes, Keith is about to go off into a full rant, though Shiro reads him well enough now to back away, claiming he’s already horribly late for his next class.

As Keith watches Shiro go, he can’t help but be jealous of his cadets.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith readjusts his clothes one last time before taking a deep breath and knocking on Shiro’s door. It’s the third time he gets to come over, though he still feels like an intruder, anxiously waiting for Shiro’s soft footfalls on the other side of the door until it swings open and Shiro greets him with a toothy smile.

“Hey Keith, glad you could make it.”

Keith murmurs his hello and follows Shiro inside, kicking his boots off and taking a moment to untangle his scarf before he can take off the jacket. Black comes over and meows at Keith, and honestly, he’s never met a cat cleverer than him because it takes one flick of the tail and a gleam of golden eyes and Keith melts, bending over to greet the cat while Shiro chuckles quietly as he watches them.

“Honestly, sometimes I am not even sure you come over to spend time with me or with Black.”

Keith straightens up and pushes his hair out of his eyes, suddenly realising just how much he needs a haircut. “I'm here for Black, obviously.”

It leaves Shiro grasping his chest in utter shock, much to Keith's endless amusement as he pushes past him into the living room. Of all the things Keith already likes about Shiro, he also enjoys Shiro’s taste in interior design. Of course, there’s a high chance of the outside help but Shiro’s entire apartment is light, warm, and comfortable, neither too modern nor too traditional but filled with obvious dedication to full bookshelves and numerous star-charts. There’s even a bonsai tree in a pretty decorative pot, probably the most Japanese thing in the entire apartment and incredibly lucky to survive living together with a cat.

The set up is pretty much the same they'd had yesterday except that now Shiro's laptop is sitting on the coffee table, too, and Keith spies table sheets with what appears to be cadets’ score points from the flight sim as he sits down on the floor.

“Always working, huh?”

“Yeah, I'm falling behind on the grading schedule but it should be fine now.”

Shiro climbs into his usual seat on the floor and it is now that Keith spots the tired look about him – even Shiro’s cheeks are uncharacteristically pale. Shiro has mentioned going to see doctors – did the visit drain him this much?

“Hey, you alright?” Keith asks when it's impossible to ignore Shiro's little wince as he rolls his broad shoulders.

“Ah, I'm fine, just a bit tired after playing the guinea pig for my doc.”

Keith glances at Shiro’s prosthetic. “Is the arm giving you trouble?”

There must be enough worry in Keith's expression that makes Shiro flinch and explain, somewhat apologetically. “Not really. How do I you tell this...” He looks down, white locks obscuring in his eyes. “I have a muscle disease. I was diagnosed when I was a kid and was given the statistical probability to maintain my mobility till age 25 and afterwards—” He shakes his head and Keith has the world spin before his eyes, succumbed to the tight grip of anxiety.

“Keith, don't look like that,” Shiro murmurs softly, and Keith tries and fails to compose himself.

“You’re terminally sick?”

“I’m _lucky_.”

“I don't get it.”

“I’m 30 in February, Keith. I wasn’t supposed to be around by this age. I’ve survived a crash and lost my arm. Gained some PTSD instead. Now, I sure am on a lot of drugs and need to maintain a strict workout schedule, but I'm still kicking.”

“Like some kind of a miracle?”

Keith's voice breaks a little even to his own ear and it has nothing to do with the ache in his throat, but Shiro only chuckles, looking Keith in the eyes and the stormy grey of them anchors Keith back. “It is more like the combination of my doc’s efforts, all the experimental meds he's fed me, and the sheer stubbornness of my family and me.”

“That's... a lot to process,” Keith admits after a brief pause. “Why the hell didn't you tell me sooner?”

“I guess I didn't want to trouble you with it.”

“Shiro.”

“And didn't want to go about rubbing my sappy story into your face when we've barely known each other for a few months.”

Shiro tries to be humorous but Keith isn't having it. He leans into Shiro’s space, a heavy glare he usually reserves for the worst of Lance's antics, which, to Shiro's credit, only makes him shift uneasily in his seat. “I’m not some little kid, you know. I can take a sappy story any time, especially,” Keith points an accusing finger at Shiro that makes him straighten up, “if that sappy story belongs to my friend.”

Shiro glances down at Keith's finger then back up at his face. “You’re more terrifying than Allura.”

“Damn right I am!” Keith more growls than says and with one final glare at Shiro reaches out for the supplies to continue working on the rosettes. Shiro joins in shortly and they work quietly, both lost in their own thoughts and almost covering the number of rosettes they've lost to Black when Shiro's Skype goes off with a notification that Matt and Pidge are online.

“And now we have the whole gang,” Shiro says as he quickly scrolls down his contact list. “What you've said during one of the classes has had me thinking for a while now.”

“I say a lot of things.”

“About Lance and Allura? That they need to go out somewhere together?”

“Ah. Yeah?” There’s glue stuck to Keith’s fingers and Shiro has to look around for a napkin.

“So I have this idea. My brother Kuron is a med student, and he is coming over this Halloween from his college, right?”

Keith nods, listening. There are a few family pictures scattered across Shiro's apartment though Keith has never asked Shiro to tell him about them. Now that there's finally a chance to find out about his relatives, Keith is all ears.

“He's a huge nerd. Tabletop games level of nerd. It's somewhat cute on him,” Shiro rambles, “and Ryou and I have been thinking of getting him a surprise party with a complete set of Monsters & Mana to play.”

“Wait, who's Ryou?”

“My twin. Anyway—”

“You have a twin? Seriously?”

Shiro laughs, getting up to find his phone. When he pads back, he shows Keith a picture of him and two other men. Shiro is easily recognisable with his white hair, though this photo must have been taken some years back – only Shiro's bangs are white, the rest of his hair, even his brows, are pitch black, though the scar across his nose and cheeks seems to be an angrier shade of red. The younger man on Shiro's left – he points him out as Kuron – has big, kind eyes that are a few shades lighter than Shiro’s and give a distinctive association with cotton clouds. His hair is long, pitch black, and reaches his shoulders. The man on Shiro's left has a bright, toothy grin on him, a mess of black hair, and a medium stubble beard, scruffy just from looking at it. Keith has to squint to make out the twin-likeness between Ryou and Shiro, and Shiro laughs under Keith's scrutinizing eye.

“It’s because of Ryou’s beard.”

“At least your eyes match—I guess.”

“Yeah. Kuron has lucked on the DNA roster – everyone calls him the handsome one.”

Keith can object to that but Shiro continues with explaining why he needs everyone to pull off a party for Kuron. It's pretty simple, really – divide everyone into pairs and give items to buy in the city like player's guide or dice or fancy figurines, set a one-week deadline – and that’s it.

“Allura and Lance, obviously, will be on one team, and I've given them the most difficult item to find so that they actually do need to spend time together looking for it.”

“Hm. This might work, actually.”

“Then let's set it up, shall we?”

Shiro starts a conference video call, and one by one his screen gets split into the feeds of each of their friends, though Lance is quick to scold Keith for not hanging out with him and going to Shiro's again. Keith shows the rosette he's assembling in his defence, and Allura immediately coos, admiring it.

“Hey, big brother,” somewhat a familiar but not quite voice cuts in and Keith grins, recognizing to whom it belongs.

“Ryou, how's it going?” Shiro beams and the twins talk for a few moments, Allura joining in while Lance, Pidge, and Hunk talk over them, shortly joined by Matt and Romelle, and it is a cacophony of noise that makes it impossible to tell what anyone is saying. Keith snorts, rolling his eyes, and elbows Shiro, quietly reminding him why he's called them all in the first place.

Shiro smiles sheepishly and sets off to explain his idea to the gang, Ryou sometimes adding his own commentary as they roll out the personal tasks. Keith zooms out of listening from time to time, his brain still a little fuzzy and uncooperative, keeping his fingers busy as he works on the rosettes. Shiro is doing much better with folding the paper today than he did yesterday, he notes, as the prosthetic has picked up the motion and now performs it as if on autopilot – like a human hand would, requiring little to no concentration from Shiro. It’s rather amusing, to listen to the shift in his tone, a soft edge replaced with hard steel – a lieutenant’s voice. It works on their friends, ever Lance and Matt shutting up and recognizing Shiro’s authority.

Ryou, on the other hand, while seeming easy to bark a laugh, acts mostly as support to Shiro, firm and sharp-eyed. Keith knows almost nothing about the man, but likes him anyway – apparently, that’s just the charm of the Shiroganes.

It takes both of the brothers to convince Lance that having never played Monsters & Mana before doesn’t disqualify Lance from participation in the event. Allura points out that she’s never played a session before as well, and only has a very vague idea about the rules, and Keith holds his breath when Lance settles down after her words, somewhat more at ease than before. Shiro gives Keith a conspiratory little wink when he gives Allura and Lance a task of finding a very particular set of dice and a specific, limited-edition paladin class figurine that Kuron, apparently, drools over.

Keith definitely wants to slap Lance when once again he makes a scene of it, making the rest groan in the background.

“Why can’t you order all of this online?”

“Oh boy here it comes,” Ryou murmurs as Shiro sets down the rosette he’s been working on and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, leaning closer to the built-in camera of his laptop.

“Do you know how the workers of such companies as Amazon are treated? Do you know about the horrible overtime hours and inhumane working conditions? Do you know the workers are not even allowed to interact with each other, let alone drink water?”

Lance, while being almost as tall as Keith, albeit lanky and not as broad around the shoulders, looks so comically tiny under the force of Shiro’s rant that Keith bursts out laughing.

“No, I don’t—“

“Then you’re better to google it up, Lance, and consider just what kind of an employer you’d be supporting by buying from them,” Shiro deadpans, and Lance looks like he’s ready to be swallowed down by the floor.

Keith, still cackling, says, “That’s some burn—You okay there, buddy?”

Lance replies something non-committal and Pidge and Hunk tease him some more, though it is good-natured and it doesn’t take Lance long to recover.

When Keith’s name is brought up he nearly misses it, which costs him being appointed to paint a commission of Kuron’s MnM character Jiro. The codeword “commission” has had Keith protesting, though the final word has been Allura’s as she pointed out that art is just as much of a job as any other, and Keith frowns, pondering the strangest day of his life that has brought him an art job at Hunk’s and a commission from Shiro and Ryou.

By the end of the call, everyone has their appointments. Matt and Pidge are responsible for finding the player’s guide and the campaign books, along with Hunk searching for the maps. Romelle volunteers to look for the rest of the player and monster figurines, while Shiro and Ryou sponsor the entire endeavour, but most importantly, Lance and Allura look excited about their own task, as well.

“You have some mighty bullshitting skills, Shiro,” Keith says as Shiro stretches, a little victorious grin on his lips.

“It takes years to master, believe me. So, you okay with doing a commission, right?”

“Yeah, I guess I am. Otherwise, Allura will rip me to pieces if I do not.”

Keith remembers that one time during the last art class, the hard steel of Allura’s cyan eyes as she pushed her long, heavy braid out of the way and towered over Keith on her high stiletto heels and said that Keith should start working on his portfolio. He honestly was clueless about what she was getting at, but then she also asked him to make an Instagram account to post his sketches and consider getting an Art Station account, as well. Given that it felt more like an order than a suggestion, Keith has had promptly done as asked, which today has earned him a pleased praise from Allura, though if Keith is being perfectly honest, he has been more concerned that Allura might haul him across the diner if he hasn’t.

Shiro turns off his laptop and picks up working on the crafts, and together it doesn’t take them long to finish up. Black is destined to spend the night locked out of the living room since the rosettes need some time to dry, and Keith is busy running his fingers through his thick black coat when he’s telling his good-byes.

“See you at tomorrow’s art class?” Shiro asks, leaning against the wall, hands crossed in front of his chest, and Keith feels his cheeks flush as he tries not to ogle him, not to lose himself in the broadness of Shiro’s shoulders and the narrow waist.

“Yeah, sure,” Keith murmurs.  There’s a kind spark in Shiro’s eyes and Keith almost thinks he’s going to hug him again, but Shiro only extends his bionic hand which Keith clasps in both of his. It has Shiro blink in surprise but grin a heartbeat later, his cheeks tinted in pretty rose.

As Keith neglects the elevator and skips down the stairs he thinks that tomorrow cannot possibly come any sooner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm kinda eh about this chapter but there should be one chapter more next week and a chapter on keith's birthday so i have this nice little deadline looming over me constantly and forcing me to put away my procrastination crown.
> 
> find me @ [tumblr](https://voidslantern.tumblr.com)


	8. so flawed and free

Thursday couldn’t come any sooner to Shiro’s likes, and he sings at the top of his lungs in the shower, something he hasn’t done in years. He has a few free hours before Allura’s art class so he uses them to get back home after work, and savours a chance to freshen up and change from the stiff and uncomfortable Garrison uniform into his casual wear.

There are so many things he needs to do, almost all of his tasks and plans – let alone obligations – form a tight schedule for the next few weeks, but honestly, with all the exhaustion from work and social engagements, Shiro hasn’t felt more active and alive in years.

The new meds Dr. Ulaz has prescribed seem to give the results, positive for a change, and even though Shiro experiences weird tingling sensation in his muscles from time to time, the tests have shown no negative change in the tissue, which green-lighted Dr. Ulaz to play around with dosage for optimum results. Good news, for once, and even if Shiro has long since accepted the cards fate has dealt him with and owns his burdens, he can’t help but brim with relief. He’s no optimist but there’s this gentle, petit hummingbird of hope fluttering inside Shiro’s chest, shining light on all of his demons, guiding them. It’s odd and strange though Shiro is protective of that hummingbird and is hell-bound to fight for it.

When Shiro runs up the stairs to the third floor of Altean Arts, the class has already started, and he has to slow down his steps and tip-toe to Allura for her obligatory peck on the cheek, though he startles at the worried line between her delicate brows.

“What’s wrong?” Shiro whispers, dreading that it might have something to do with Lotor again.

Allura shakes her head, her earrings making a soft chime with her motion. Shiro can’t take much of her attention away and quickly sneaks at the back of the studio where usually Lance and Keith can be found, though today... Today it’s only Lance, Keith’s seat beside him unoccupied.

“Lance?”

“Hey, Shiro,” the blue-eyed man waves his hand in meek greetings, forcing himself to look up at Shiro.

“What’s going on with you and Allura? And where’s Keith?”

Lance nods Shiro to sit down, both growing quiet as Allura speaks, explaining the peculiarities of the clavicle and muscles surrounding it. When there’s a moment of pause, Lance whispers back to Shiro.

“He woke up with a high fever. I think it is flu.”

“What? He didn’t complain about feeling sick yesterday,” Shiro murmurs, trying to remember anything at odds with Keith from the day before but noting nothing unusual about him but chilly fingers.

Lance huffs, abandoning his attempts to sketch for the class and turning to Shiro. “He’s just like that. One day he’s in peak health, the next – falls bedridden with common flu, completely unable to accept help even if he needs it.” There’s bitterness in Lance’s voice, though he shakes it off and looks Shiro in the eye, as sharp and mischievous as always. “Anyway, he couldn’t make it to the art class today. He tried; I might have threatened to handcuff him so he let it go. Not without a hissy fit, of course.”

“Sounds about like Keith,” Shiro says. “Have you checked up on him?”

Allura makes her way to them after giving the artists a task to make their reference sketches, and Lance gets up to make room for her to sit.

“Yeah, after work – it was only then when I’ve found out he’s sick, though I don’t think the supplies I’ve brought will last till the evening.” Lance makes a face. “Not to mention Keith has literally kicked me out, yelling obscenities and cursing like a sailor about how “he ain’t gonna have me sick, too”.”

“We’ve been thinking to go visit Keith after the class,” Allura says, glancing between Lance and Shiro, “but since you’re here...”

“Yes, right!” Lance beams. “Shiro! My man! My bud!”

Shiro balks away from Lance’s explosion of emotion as the man throws his hands up in the realisation of something and catches Shiro by the sleeve. “Can you play Shiro the Hero and go get Keith some medications? Maybe food? Chicken soup? Please?”

“Of course I can. I was actually thinking of proposing this myself,” Shiro mumbles, trying to shake Lance’s surprisingly strong grip off. “Without _Shiro the Hero_ part, though. Jeez, Lance, you sound just like Coran sometimes.”

Allura lets out a laugh at Lance’s confused expression. “Coran is my uncle, you’ll meet him someday.”

Shiro lingers only long enough to get a massive list of instructions from Lance and the name of a drug that usually knocks Keith’s flu out as it appears Lance has served as a nurse by Keith’s bedside for a decade now, given that falling down with fever is an annual occurrence in Keith’s life. Allura and Lance promise to come over once they are done at Altean Arts and bring enough food to fill Keith’s fridge up for at least a week (Lance claims Keith’s kitchen has a wide assortment of foods enough to satisfy a grown man, consisting of four eggs, a nearly empty bottle of ketchup, and a pack of porridge).

“And one more thing before you go, Shiro,” Lance whispers once Allura has to get back to her students, “Keith is a pain in the ass when he’s sick. He’ll tell you to fuck off, try to convince you that he’s a strong, independent man and needs no help – don’t listen to him. He’s a wee, sick baby under all those spikes.”

“So I give him a pacifier and sing a lullaby?” Shiro jokes half-heartedly.

“Well, you can try that, I bet Keith will be exhilarated,” Lance shrugs, completely serious, “or just don’t listen to Keith’s protests and do what’s best for him. He’ll come around.”

“Alright. I’ll keep you posted,” Shiro says as he gets up, giving Lance a quick pat on the shoulder.

“Take care of my buddy, Shiro,” he replies, Allura giving him a curt nod and a smile as Shiro brushes past her.

The worry for Keith prompts Shiro’s legs to move faster, and he doesn’t mind the cold wind blasting through his protective jacket as he pilots ATLAS to the nearest drug store. He finds the medication Lance has suggested and after a quick advice from one of the pharmacists, he also gets Keith a pack of vitamins and minerals to speed up the recovery. Then, he drops by the Balmera Mall to quickly buy enough food to feed several sick Keiths and not even forty minutes later after leaving Altean Arts, Shiro is climbing the steps to Keith’s apartment, belatedly realising he only knows at which floor Keith lives.

With a curse, Shiro finds his phone and calls Keith, hoping he’s awake. A few heartbeats later, Keith picks up and more coughs than says,

“Yeah?”

“Hey, Keith, it’s me,” he tries not to stammer as he explains that Lance has sent him and he’s outside Keith’s door and it would’ve been so nice if Keith could please open up. Much to Shiro’s surprise and not a few moments later, he hears movement behind the farthest apartment door and a digital lock goes off, unlocking, the door swinging open. Shiro stares at the ruffled (more than usual, at least) Keith, bundled up in a huge blanket and still holding his phone to his ear.

“Shiro?” Keith squints at him as if only now realising he’s been talking to him over the phone, his cheeks, and nose an unhealthy tint of red. It takes him a moment to process, so Shiro decides to take Lance’s advice literally as he helps himself inside, Keith absolutely startled and following him to the kitchen on autopilot. Keith only has a loose khaki green sweater that reaches to his mid-thighs, and woolen socks on, the discovery making Shiro’s cheeks flush bright pink. Thankfully, Keith clings to his blanket and throws it tighter around his frame. “What are you doing here?”

Keith clearly has trouble focusing, so Shiro wastes no time unloading the groceries and fishes out the meds and vitamins, putting them on the small and only counter in the kitchen, and turns to feel Keith’s forehead.

“You’re burning up,” he mutters in concern.

“Shiro, what—“ Keith tries to push Shiro’s hand away but he only whisks him away towards the bed. He doesn’t allow himself to look around much, only noting how actually small Keith’s place is, much smaller than what Shiro has initially imagined.

“I’m here to take care of you, Lance’s orders,” Shiro reminds him but Keith protests again.

“Get out, you’ll get sick because of me!”

“I won’t.”

“Yes you will, I’m not having—“ Keith’s voice rasps into a coughing fit and Shiro soothes him through it, offering a glass of water.

“I’m not having you catching a cold or whatever this is,” Keith tries again once he can breathe properly again and Shiro clicks his tongue.

“It’s just flu, Keith. I don’t mind it,” he repeats and gets up for the fever-reducing meds, quickly typing a text to Allura to get something powerful for sore throats as he has doubts about the much milder syrup he’s brought helping with Keith’s coughing fits. Keith stays sitting on the bed, his messy hair sticking in every direction as his bloodshot eyes follow Shiro’s every move.

“Get the fuck out, Shiro, or I won’t be held responsible for my bacilli.”

“Helping you get better is totally worth the risk,” Shiro says as he pads back to Keith’s bed, navigating his way between an old couch with several books stacked on one of its seats, a giant, out of place in such a small apartment bookshelf, and a desk.

Keith regards him from under his bangs, hair sticking to his sweaty skin that prompts Shiro to push them away without giving it much thought, but Keith doesn’t flinch away, and accepts the medicine, gulping it obediently down.

“Thanks.”

Shiro gives Keith the syrup to help to ease the pain in his throat, too, and motions Keith to lie down properly. “Try to sleep, Keith.”

Keith, indeed a stubborn ass, tries to protest again, but it comes without the heat behind his words as once his head touches the pillow, his lashes flutter shut. Shiro stays sitting at the edge of the bed, frowning a little as he waits for Keith’s breathing to even out. The light in the room is quite dim, and the closest lamp is the one on Keith’s bedside table, but Shiro can still make out how sickly Keith looks, let alone the dark circles under his eyes. Lance has said that the meds will get Keith back on his feet in a few days, a little cheat-code to whatever Keith’s body needs. Shiro wishes that they do.

Once Shiro’s sure Keith is asleep, he quietly pads back into the kitchen, hoping Keith won’t mind if he tidies up and cooks for him. Having grown up with two younger brothers, Shiro knows just the right chicken soup recipe in case of a cold, and he makes quick work of preparing it. The scent of the food carries through the apartment, and barely an hour later Shiro hears Keith ghost into the kitchen, dropping into the only chair by the table, still half-asleep. Shiro wonders how Keith has managed to sense the food through his stuffy nose but doesn’t comment and gives him a smile.

“Hey,” Shiro murmurs as Keith gives him the once-over. “The soup’s almost ready.”

Keith grunts in reply, and with one final stir of the spoon, Shiro puts it aside and places his flesh palm against Keith’s forehead.

“Feels a bit cooler than before.”

“You know I actually do own a thermometer,” Keith says, his throat so busted his voice is barely recognisable so hoarse it is, and points at the fridge. It isn’t particularly tall, so Keith uses the fridge’s top to stash cereal boxes and all kinds of miscellaneous things, and amongst them, Shiro spies the thermometer, too. He hands it over to Keith and searches for a bowl to serve the soup in.

“Well?”

“Ugh, 38.9°C,” Keith groans, and cuddles tighter into his blanket, shivering. “It’s been 39.8° in the morning.”

Shiro places the bowl in front of him. “Eat up.”

“What’s this?” Keith asks, poking the dish with the spoon.

“A Japanese chicken soup,” Shiro grins. “The recipe has been in my family for decades – it helps fight off the colds and flu like no other.”

“Huh.”

Keith takes a spoonful, chews on the delicate meat and swallows. “I can’t even taste it.”

“Aw,” Shiro tries not to pout but can’t quite. Shiro is nowhere as good of a cook as Hunk, but he manages just fine. Some part of him really wants to impress Keith with his cooking, and Shiro doesn’t catch himself on that until after he realises that Keith definitely won’t be able to taste anything right now.

Keith finishes the entire bowl in almost record time, something that Shiro considers a good sign, though he still sways a little on his feet when he gets up to go back to bed. Shiro is promptly there, a steadying hand on the small of Keith’s back. Once Keith has climbed back into his bed, he sits up and gives Shiro another scrutinizing glare.

“What?” Shiro asks as he sets a carafe with fresh water and a clean glass on the bedside table.

“You’re here. In my apartment.”

“Yes?”

Keith lifts his hand and pokes Shiro’s bionic arm. “Real Shiro.”

“Quite real, last time I’ve checked at least,” Shiro jokes and Keith rolls his eyes.

“My brain is over-cooked. ‘s hard to concentrate.”

Shiro smiles and goes over to the couch, sitting down near the books. It’s definitely an old couch and he can feel every spring dig into his ass, but it’s Keith’s couch so he likes it anyway. Keith is still watching him like a cat. A ruffled, disoriented, and incredibly grumpy cat.

Shiro stops himself, wincing when he realises he's just used a meme to describe Keith and tries to shake the mental image out of his head.

“So, Lance’s sent you?” Keith asks, cuddling up into a more comfortable position.

Shiro nods, remembering Lance's anxiousness from earlier. “He’s worried about you. Allura, too.”

Keith groans, running a hand through his hair. “It’s foolish. People catch colds all the time.”

“It’s not foolish to worry for your friend’s well-being, Keith,” Shiro points out, leaning forward in his seat so he can look at Keith properly. “And you’re also feverish. Hell, you haven’t even realised who you’ve been talking to over the phone.”

Keith only coughs in response, growing silent as he closes his eyes. Shiro uses the moment to take in Keith’s apartment with a bit more attention to details than before. Sure, it is small, but each surface has its purpose. On the windowsill there are multiple plants in various pretty pots, along with a menacing looking knife stabbed into a stack of papers – bills, probably, Shiro realises. The amounts of books in the room makes Shiro compare to his own collection and somewhat find it losing to Keith’s. The lighting is too dim to make out the most titles since the copies are mostly old and well-worn, though Shiro still recognises a few more recent titles.

Keith’s bed is queen-sized, and there’s only a small dresser Shiro spies in the room. There’s definitely a sock poking out from the top drawer, and there are books on art theory stashed on the top of the dresser, along with a few graphic novels. What piques the most of Shiro’s curiosity is Keith’s desk – there are multiple sketches and drawing albums scattered across it, along with various types of stationary in sticker-flexed storage organisers. Shiro’s practically inching to have a closer look but Keith goes into another coughing fit and Shiro is promptly at his side, brows knit together in compassion as Keith’s entire body shakes violently with each raspy cough until the fit passes and Keith sags tiredly against the pillows.

“I hate being sick,” he murmurs. “Makes me feel useless.”

“You’re not useless, Keith,” Shiro says, pouring another glass of water for Keith. “It’s kind of the whole point to allow yourself to take some time off and let others take care of you.”

“You’re just like Lance,” Keith says, absolutely not amused, and sneezes. “Ugh.”

“Alright, fine,” Shiro laughs, “you’re gross and sick. Still cute though.”

“I’m not cute,” Keith whines in protest but still avoids looking at Shiro, shyly toying with a loose thread in his blanket instead. It makes him even cuter, Shiro thinks, smiling.

Cute, charming, handsome. Incredibly stubborn and reserved, too, but Shiro still finds himself attracted to Keith, and each passing day, each passing moment makes him realise that even more. He has had no second thoughts when he rushed to get the meds and food for Keith, not only because of the crush but also because there’s the kind of certainty for Shiro that he’s ready to do anything for Keith, in whatever context – as a friend or as a...

No. He’s Keith’s friend first.

“Do you want to watch some Netflix?” Shiro asks, blinking away the sudden stinging in his eyes.

“I- Sorry. No,” Keith replies, shaking his head. “Headache.”

“It’s alright. Maybe try sleeping some more?”

Keith meets Shiro’s gaze, and even while he’s all sickly red around his cheeks and nose, Shiro is still mesmerised by his sharp features and infinitely long lashes and it takes him a moment to realise Keith is asking him a question.

“Will you stay?”

“Sure,” Shiro says. “The art class ends soon, so Lance and Allura will be dropping by in about two hours or so.”

“What? No. Absolutely not.”

“Keith—“

“What Lance is thinking, dragging Allura here, too, it’s bad enough he’s sent you--”

“Keith, shut up.”

“No, I won’t—“

“KEITH, PLEASE.”

Shiro has no other choice but to catch Keith’s hands before he can reach for his phone, no doubt about to call Lance and drag him for all the visitors, so he clasps them firmly in his, his heart skipping a beat at the look in Keith’s eyes. The air between them goes taunt and electrified and Shiro knows breathing it sets his lungs on fire. Keith doesn’t break the eye contact, his lips parting ever so slightly. Gross and sick, Shiro yearns to kiss him.

“Shiro?”

“What I’m trying to say—“ he searches for words but can’t find his usual eloquence, blood thumping in his ears as he realises his cheeks are flushed a matching red to Keith’s now. “Keith, just allow us to take care of you.”

It’s not what Shiro wants to say. It’s not even the tiniest part of it.

“You don’t have to lower your barriers or anything like that,” Shiro says carefully. “You don’t have to take a leap of faith if you’re not feeling like it.”

Keith listens, his hands moving briefly to settle more comfortably in Shiro’s, finding all the places where to fit, and for once, even his bionic hand doesn’t feel out of place.

“You know how much Lance cares about you, but the thing about Allura and me is that—“ Shiro stops, thinking. “The way how we both feel about you and Lance is quite similar. Sure, not much time has passed but-- Well, it doesn’t let us sit idly by when any of you could use a hand. Allura was the one who’s suggested I’d come to take care of you now, and Lance has only supported it.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. She’s worried, and Lance, too. Hell, do you have any idea how much I’ve freaked out when I didn’t see you at the studio and Lance and Allura were both grim-faced and acting weird?” Shiro laughs awkwardly but Keith is still listening, his head cocked to the side. “So, Keith—Just so that you know,” Shiro squeezes Keith’s finely-boned hands for emphasis, “we’ve got your back.”

Keith is silent, the fire stirring behind his violet eyes settling and changing shape, but he sighs and says, “Fine. They can come. You,” he frees his hand to point at Shiro, “can stay for the time being, too.”

Shiro’s lips twitch into a silly smile and Keith rolls his eyes at him. “Don’t let it go to your head, Shiro.”

 

The time before Lance and Allura come banging on Keith’s front door passes in comfortable quiet. Keith invites Shiro to check his books and honestly, Shiro could spend hours just admiring the covers, until he picks one of the fantasy hardbacks and returns to seat on the couch, Keith finally giving in to slumber.

He coughs in his sleep from time to time, but at least it doesn’t wake him up. Shiro honestly tries to read, but his gaze keeps falling back to Keith. So soft and peaceful. Graced by otherworldly beauty.

When there’s a loud bang on the door, Shiro instantly knows it is Lance, and Keith stirs awake, one eye popping open as he glares in the direction of the hallway.

“I’ll go get it,” Shiro says, putting the book aside.

As they have promised, Allura and Lance bring a lot of food. Bags upon bags of various groceries and fresh fruits and vegetables and Allura immediately hands Shiro a paper bag with more meds for Keith’s flu.

“How is he?” they both ask simultaneously as Lance leads the way to the kitchen to unload the groceries.

Shiro senses Keith pad to them silently and grins at the same scrutinizing eye he’s giving Allura and Lance that Shiro has had to survive before.

“Better,” Keith says, and Lance balks at the rasp in Keith’s voice.

“Why the hell are you walking around like this?!”

There’s a battle of wills ensuing between the best friends as they bicker, and Allura and Shiro just share a knowing look and continue with finding a place for the groceries.

“So how is he?” Allura asks quietly and Shiro looks over his shoulder to where Keith and Lance are busy to drive each other nuts – all in good nature, of course, but still. 

“Fever is getting better but his cough is kinda bad.”

“I see.”

Allura’s sharp eyes are on Keith, and once again Shiro thinks that if Allura hasn’t picked art as her career path she would’ve made an excellent medic. She cuts through the bickering and with an authoritative hand guides Keith back to bed. Whatever it is about her, Keith doesn’t even bat an eye, submitting to her instructions without question.

Shiro’s a bit envious, and even Lance’s jaw drops as he stares at them.

“Shiro, can you please pinch me? I’m having trouble believing what I’m seeing.”

He humours Lance but it doesn’t help much as Keith is a model patient and endures getting his throat checked before Allura allows him to take different syrup to ease his cough. Afterward, Lance is climbing into bed to Keith, completely unbothered by his protests, and Allura and Shiro settle on the couch. They talk quietly between themselves well into the night, Keith falling asleep at some point, his head resting against Lance’s lanky shoulder, and none of them notices the slumber claiming all of them one by one as well.

 

Shiro dreams of vast expanses of stars, violet galaxies claiming the world as Shiro falls through them, and when he wakes up with a start it takes him a while to remember where he is. He checks his watch and sighs – it’s barely six in the morning.

“Oh,” Shiro huffs out, realising that the weight against his torso is Allura and he has accidentally stirred her awake. “Sorry.”

“Shiro? Good morning,” Allura mumbles, rubbing her eyes and immediately cursing as she realises she’s still wearing mascara. “Ugh, so much for “who the hell is Bucky”.”

Shiro snickers and glances over at Keith and Lance, both still fast asleep. Allura’s expression is incredibly soft as she looks at them, her eyes lingering at Lance’s peaceful face.

“We should probably wake them up,” Shiro whispers and Allura nods, padding over and gently placing a hand on Keith’s shoulder, immediately making him grunt and try to scurry away.

“Sorry to wake you up,” Allura says, and stirs Lance awake, too.

“Huh?” Lance blinks, rubbing at his eyes, and stares at Allura for a good moment before he realises he’s not dreaming. “Allura! Gosh, what time is it?”

“Some ungodly early hour in the morning,” Keith rumbles, rolling to lie on his stomach. The blanket gets tangled up between his long legs and exposes Keith’s back, along with the round ass clad in loose boxer briefs. Shiro promptly looks away, embarrassed by the way how his body betrays him.

“Ugh, it’s Friday, right? I have to work,” Lance groans, rubbing at his scruffy cheeks, and slowly climbs out of the bed and stretches. Allura sighs, admitting she’s working, too. Shiro takes a moment to remember he has some sim flights to look over today, as well. All three of them groan while Keith lifts his head from the pillow and snickers, much to Lance’s annoyance.

“You—Drink your fucking syrup,” Lance growls and Keith laughs, still raspy but still sounding much better than yesterday.

No one leaves until they make sure that Keith’s temperature is a lot less concerning than yesterday and feed him all the meds. It’s not surprising they end up having breakfast at Keith’s place too, and Shiro can’t keep his eyes off of him, at the way how, if reluctantly, he lights up with pleasure at watching his friends go about his place, at the easy morning bickering between them before each gets their coffee fix.

When Keith’s and Shiro’s eyes meet, they smile at each other, broad and bright, and Keith stands in the hallway, accepting Allura’s smooches to both of his cheeks, Lance’s tightest hug that makes him yelp, and one of Shiro’s, as well, and Shiro melts into Keith’s lean form as he realises that Keith is pulling him closer, filling the blanks between them and nuzzling briefly into the crook of Shiro’s neck.

It leaves Shiro wondering if he has misunderstood Keith’s words from a few days ago because all the things that embrace has been, none of the emotions that sparkled in the briefness of it between them have been friendly or platonic; and neither has been the fiery glance Keith has given Shiro, fully aware of how it has made Shiro’s cheek go deep red for the second time that morning.

Allura and Lance exchange a look but do not comment, and Shiro is all too eager to dash to his home, claiming his prosthetic’s battery is about to die, and he thanks the stars that for once in his life he gets away with it.

 

* * *

here's a random keith sketch as a bonus

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phew.
> 
> i hang out @[tumblr](https://voidslantern.tumblr.com) a lot and post some random progress updates there, too.


	9. a crown with gems and gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my big, fluffy, cheesy HAPPY BIRTHDAY to darling Keith

“Seriously? A bar?” Keith asks, crossing his hands in front of his chest as Lance and he stand in front of Thayserix, a well-respected though rather alternative bar-slash-nightclub-slash-karaoke and one of Lance’s favourites. “That's why you've told me to dress up like this?”

“C’mon, Keith, it's your birthday. Don't you want to celebrate and also look nice for once? Think of all the selfies!”

Keith rolls his shoulders, frowning at the way how the tight leather jacket seems to restrain his movements. It is the nicest thing he owns, along with dark jeans that are ripped because they are supposed to be and not because Keith just likes giving a second life to his old clothes by going over them with scissors. He couldn’t be bothered with selecting a nice shirt to go with the jacket, so it’s a plain black tee. At least his boots are comfortable, Keith thinks grumpily as he regards Lance’s spot-on outfit, his dusky skin shining with health as the white lapels of his shirt accent its dark tone. The deep blue vest that hugs Lance’s torso also compliments Lance’s slim build and the impossibly narrow waist, the look completed by close-fitting dark pants and shiny boots. There’s excitement in Lance’s every move, and Keith can’t help but hope that Allura will appreciate his friend’s outfit, too.

“Shut up, Keith, and follow me,” Lance says with a wink before Keith can say a word about what he thinks of this whole idea and Keith sighs, dragging himself after Lance as he pushes the doors of the three-story bar open. It’s too cold outside to be standing in in-door clothing anyway, and Keith’s limbs begin to chill after the warm saloon of Lance’s Hybrid.

As Keith’s best friend, Lance has taken up the mantle of being the one responsible for organizing the celebrations of Keith’s birthdays – especially since Keith can never be bothered with celebrating literally anything – and over the years of their friendship, Lance has never failed to deliver. Now, though, Keith is sceptical as he waits a moment for his eyes to adapt to the dimmed lighting in the bar, still not sure if it is the right place for someone like Keith. Lance knows exactly where he is going as he hooks elbows with Keith, flashing an encouraging smile at him as he leads Keith to the stairs to the second floor. As they pass through the crowd of people dancing -- and often straight out rutting -- to a powerful beat, Keith marvels at the intimate atmosphere he has not been expecting out of a place like Thayserix.

Well, Keith never goes to places like Thayserix, so how would he know, really?

Once the boys enter the second floor, Keith breathes out a startled laugh. While the first level of the bar is just that – a bar – the second floor is a definite contrast. There is almost no people here except for a group that immediately begins to wave at Keith and Lance to come over to their little booth with a karaoke set up Keith spies even from the other end of the room. There still is an area dedicated to hosting a bar, much smaller than that on the first floor, but still considerable. The lighting is still somewhat dim and bluish, though when Keith glances at Lance he laughs, noticing his white shirt glows with neon light.

“You knew this would happen,” Keith says and Lance dusts an invisible speck off of his sleeve.

“No, it’s just my natural beauty finally shining into this world.”

Keith doesn’t get a chance to sass back because there’s a wave of white curls suddenly in Keith’s vision and strong arms wrapping tightly around Keith as Allura kisses him soundly on the cheek.

“There you are, birthday boy!”

“Hey,” Keith mumbles a little shyly. He glances behind Allura at the cosy little booth and his entire being is set on fire as he spies Shiro amongst the people gathered, handsome as always in a simple white shirt with rolled-up sleeves and a smart thin tie accenting his powerful build. Keith doesn't get to react to Shiro’s grin when Pidge is tackling him and Keith barely manages to catch her and support her weight.

“Happy birthday, you asshole,” she laughs and squeezes Keith with enough strength one wouldn't expect from a young woman as tiny and innocent looking as she.

“Oh my god, Pidge, how are you so strong?” Keith squeaks out when he's sure there's no more air left in his lungs and Pidge finally lets him go – not without a devilish smirk of hers.

“My height doesn’t stop me from being full of rage,” she sasses, earning an approving snicker from Lance.

Keith slips into a seat to Hunk’s left – Hunk greets him and winks, saying his congratulations – and Lance claims the free place by Keith’s side, ending up opposite of Allura. Keith grins when he notices that Lance notices, and shares a quick nod with Shiro, both subtly eyeing their friends. Keith is too far away from Shiro to be able to speak to him properly but there isn’t much of a chance for anything but to accept the good-natured teasing he is subjected to as Matt, Romelle, and Pidge rally everyone to start their evening together by singing the happy birthday song to Keith.

It’s embarrassing. Keith wishes for the floor to open up and swallow him whole when the entire group picks up Matt’s horrible off-key singing and Lance hooks his hands around Keith’s shoulders, yelling the lyrics at the top of his lungs as there’s no time wasting and Hunk disappears briefly to bring a beautiful, two-tiered cake, twenty-six candles casting golden glow on across everyone’s faces. Matt snaps a few pictures before he even allows anyone to get closer to the cake.

“That’s a fire hazard,” Keith laughs out as Hunk sets the cake in front of Keith. He takes a moment to appreciate the stunning frosting work Hunk has done, all the red roses and even a dagger painted at the top tier – no doubt Lance’s idea. Keith’s name is written in fancy cursive that vaguely reminds Allura’s handwriting – later Keith finds out she indeed has helped with it – and Keith takes a deep breath, accompanied by the almost pagan chanting of his friends and blows out the candles.

No, scratch that. Almost all of the candles, since Keith is too old now and there is too many of them for him to be able to do it in one try. Keith says as much, earning the good-natured teasing.

There’s a brief pause as Lance and Romelle dash off to bring drinks to their table and Pidge uses the moment to put a make-shift crown on Keith’s head that is more like a plastic band with star-shaped Christmas lights looped around it. Keith immediately tries to take it off but Shiro gives him a look from across the table and Keith doesn’t have the heart to object to it.

“How are all of you here?” Keith asks after the alcohol arrives and he gets a knife to cut the cake, cue a little fight between Pidge and Lance on who gets the slice with “K” on it. “It’s Tuesday, don’t y’all need to be responsible adults tomorrow?”

“What? Adulting? Responsibility? Never heard of her,” Hunk says as he clinks glasses with Shiro and Matt.

 “We’re here to celebrate your birthday, Keith. Waiting for the weekend wasn’t an option,” Shiro says as Keith snaps at Lance’s fingers ready to whisk away the “K” slice of the cake before Keith is even done cutting it out, which only makes Keith give the disputed piece to Shiro just to mess with Lance.

“Which means,” Allura smiles as she rises in her seat and readjusts Keith’s glowing crown so that it sits more comfortably on his head, “we get to drink as much as we want so that we can regret it tomorrow morning.”

Lance can’t take his eyes off of her, and Keith is sure everyone at their table notices it though honestly, Keith can’t blame Lance from lagging – Allura looks as stunning and royal as a princess from a faraway world in her white flowing gown, the Thayserix’s lights making her glow like a being not foreign to magic.

Keith diligently cuts the cake for everyone, leaving the slice with the dagger frosting for himself, and straight out moans at his first bite.

“’s so fucking good,” he manages and Pidge gives Hunk a high five.

“I’ve spent forever thinking which flavouring you’ll like the most,” Hunk says, grinning from ear to ear, and Keith thinks of the same look he’s had about him when Keith and Lance took their first bites of his cooking all the way back on their second week of going to Allura’s classes. It feels like a forever ago now but Keith recalls the memory with the warmth he has thought himself unable to feel anymore.

“I absolutely love it!” Keith says, stuffing himself with the most delicious chocolate cake he’s ever tasted in his life.

“Sweet tooth,” Lance teases.

 

They chat for a while, consuming enough alcohol to make Romelle’s proposal to start a karaoke contest seem like a good idea. Matt elects himself as a judge since he can’t sing and they draw straws on who goes to sing first though Lance refuses to wait his turn and whisks Keith away towards the mics. He fumbles for a while with, searching for a specific song, and Keith sighs in relief when it’s Hozier’s “Take Me To Church” and not something a lot more embarrassing. They quickly decide the way how they want to go about it and with a pat on each other’s shoulder, the boys pick their microphones, checking if they work.

There’s some hooting and cheering from their table and Keith can feel his cheeks burn when he more feels than sees that Shiro’s eyes are on him and him only. If Lance hasn’t been loud enough to distract Keith from the intensity of Shiro’s gaze he might have just stayed there, rooted to the ground and burning up with just _Shiro, Shiro, Shiro._

There has been a change between them since that day when Shiro had burst into Keith’s apartment and took care of him while he was too sick to even think properly. It’s as if the things, thoughts, gestures he shares with Shiro all have a different, deeper meaning now, and Keith burns with it, burns with his entire being attuned to Shiro.

No, not like that. Keith is exactly the same as he has always been. It’s Shiro’s presence in his life that makes him re-discover himself and find new meaning to his traits, to his views, to his world.

Perhaps Keith has taken that leap of faith after all because when he dares to meet Shiro’s eyes, he’s overwhelmed with the realisation that Shiro, unknowingly, has become Keith’s guiding light.

Lance takes the lead, his voice pleasant for once as he sings along the lyrics.

 _„My lover's got humour_  
_She's the giggle at a funeral_  
_Knows everybody's disapproval_  
_I should've worshipped her sooner”_

Keith loses himself in the lyrics, in the way how Lance and Allura’s gazes lock together and there can’t be anything more fitting to them.

Keith isn’t much of a singer but he manages and joins Lance in at the chorus, earning a boom of applause from their table that startles him at first but he recovers and hooks his elbows with Lance as they sing it a duet.

 _„Take me to church_  
_I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies_  
_I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife_  
_Offer me that deathless death_  
_Good God, let me give you my life”_

Keith sees Shiro lean forward in his seat, his full lips parted slightly as he can’t seem to take his eyes off of Keith, completely oblivious to Matt telling him something. Keith tucks that look on Shiro away, aware of the stirrings within that part of him that exists for creation and colour and lines, aware how it makes his fingers itch to pick up a brush and paint Shiro. He can’t do it now, so it only makes Keith put more passion into his voice, pour the feelings he has been both neglecting and nurturing ever since he’s laid his eyes on Shiro.

_“If I'm a pagan of the good times  
My lover's the sunlight”_

Keith is ruined. He knows that. He has accepted that. There’s no saving him now from the stormy grey eyes and white hair and infinitely long legs and all the scars, from all the demons that Shiro claims to lurk underneath his skin.

Lance takes the lead again and Keith steps back, wiping his brow as he tries to catch his breath, his heart racing in his chest. He takes off his jacket and tosses it aside, hot blood thumping through his veins. Matt never gets to distract Shiro, and for once Keith feels smug about it as he joins Lance at the chorus again, and sings the next verse.

_„No masters or kings when the ritual begins  
There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin”_

The gentle sin of stealing Shiro’s breath away when even he reaches his limits, when Keith’s teasing gets to him, when Shiro has to run after Keith allows them to have their bodies flush together, disguising it as a friendly hug.

Keith knows he is playing a dangerous game. He knows he might ruin everything. His fire melts the thin ice he’s treading on. Is it worth the risk? Is a smile or a brush of fingers against his skin worth it?

The song ends and both Keith and Lance pant until Lance brings Keith along for a bow for their audience, a few patrons from across the bar hooting and cheering at them, too.

Shiro finally snaps out of his trance and gets up to his feet to applaud with the rest.

“Thank you, thank you, we’ll be here all evening,” Lance jokes, winking at Allura as Keith and he return to their table, Keith immediately finding a glass of anything non-alcoholic to drink. His throat has barely just recovered from flu, after all, and all this exercise makes it hurt a little again.

“That was an amazing performance,” Matt says, mimicking a TV host’s intonations as everyone finally settles down. “Will anyone be able to beat that?”

The evening resumes with Romelle, Pidge, and Hunk singing Britney Spears songs and absolutely rocking them – Keith hasn’t even suspected he’s going to join in all the exciting yelling along but he totally does, and he’s soft and warm from all the alcohol and the sweets.

When it is only Allura and Shiro left to pull off their songs, there’s a bit of a debate between them until their faces get lit with an idea and Allura goes first, Lance shushing everyone to give Allura all the attention. Keith sits up when he recognises the sounds playing softly from the speakers, and when Allura begins to sing in her soft, melodic voice, Keith knows that Lance is falling all the rest of way down in love with her.

 _„Rows of houses_  
_Sound asleep_  
_Only street lights_  
_Notice me”_

It’s a sad song, bittersweetly so, but Sleeping At Last are otherworldly, and so is Allura as she puts emotion to each verse, and Keith feels his eyes prickle as he thinks of her, of why she has picked this song.

 _„I talk in circles_  
_I talk in circles_  
_I watch for signals_  
_For a clue_

 _How to feel different_  
_How to feel new_  
_Like science fiction_  
_Bending truth_ ”

Lance gets up, carefully climbing from behind the table to sit at the steps that lead to the small stage, completely mesmerized as he whispers along the lyrics.

_„Yet I know, if I stepped aside  
Released the controls, you would open my eyes”_

It’s an intimate moment between the two, and Keith catches Shiro’s attention, raising his brows. Shiro replies with a hopeful quirk of his lips, and they return to watching them as the song picks up the emotion, and its a fairy-tale like mist that settles over them all until Allura grins at the applause and subtly wipes a few tears away. Lance helps her get off the stage and briefly, Keith gets an image of how it would be like at their wedding, both so beautiful and charming. He even dares to imagine himself standing there, Lance’s best man, trying to not to start crying right in front of everyone because he’s so damn happy for them both.

Keith almost misses the moment when Shiro gets up, the last to participate, and at the first piano note Keith freezes on the spot, recognising it. Shiro’s voice is soft, higher than usual as he matches just the right octave.

_„Sweetheart, you look a little tired  
When did you last eat?”_

“That’s—Sleeping At Last again,” he whispers to no one in particular but Allura catches his eye with a little wink of hers and Keith knows they all have been played.

When he looks at Shiro again, he has his eyes closed, not even bothering to look at the screen to follow the lyrics. Shiro knows them by heart, Keith realises.

 _„It's okay if you can't find the words_  
_Let me take your coat_  
_And this weight off of your shoulders”_

Keith’s heart makes a little skip when he remembers exactly the day, the moment those lyrics are applicable to but doesn’t dare to read too much into them. Shiro is lost in it, lost in the song as his whole body moves with the gentle music.

_„A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss  
I will love you with every single thing I have”_

Those words sound so sweet on Shiro’s lips, and it hurts in that bittersweet way that he doesn’t really say them to Keith but he still gets to hear them, to witness the syllables fall from Shiro’s beautiful mouth.

He’s on fire when Shiro opens his eyes and looks straight at Keith. There isn’t anything at that moment for Keith but Shiro and the song and the way how every fibre in his being aches for the white-haired man.

 _„Like a tidal wave, I'll make a mess_  
_Or calm waters, if that serves you best_  
_I will love you without any strings attached”_

There is an emphasis, a subtle quirk of his brow as Shiro sings that verse and Keith wonders if he really means it.

 _„Tell me where it hurts_  
_I just want to build you up, build you up_  
_'Til you're good as new_  
_And maybe one day I will get around fixing myself too”_

Keith gasps at the emotion, at the lyrics of the song he’s known for years finding their meaning, finding the weight and carving this moment in Keith’s memory because it is Shiro spilling his heart out right in front of everyone.

_„I just want to love you, to love you, to love you well  
I just want to learn how, somehow, to be loved myself”_

Shiro’s voice hitches, just a fraction, but Keith still sees the way how his chest rises and falls with each powerful breath he makes, his brows knit together.

Keith doesn’t realise he’s singing along, quietly, because he knows the lyrics by heart, too. Shiro’s expression changes as he notices, and his voice grows more powerful as the final two verses pick up in intensity, and honestly, Keith has never heard anyone sing so beautifully, so heartfelt as Shiro.

He’s clapping the loudest when the song ends, and everyone just rolls with it, yelling for Shiro until they start getting weird looks from the staff and patrons, until Matt gives up and announces him as the winner and Shiro picks his prize by dragging everyone – Matt included – on stage so that they can all sing “Radioactive” until their throats are hoarse. There is so much force, energy in their combined voices, in the shared space on the tiny stage, Keith is set loose, drinking it all in, yelling the lyrics at the top of his lungs, his hands clasping the mic together with Shiro and Allura.

 _Best birthday in my life_ , Keith thinks as the song ends and all look at each other with stupid grins on their faces. Matt yells “Selfie time!” and manages to snap a picture of the whole group.

“Hey, do it again, I’ve blinked!” Lance bristles and for the next picture everyone makes a face just to mess with him.

 

Keith gets to have a few moments of calm to finish up his birthday cake in peace, Shiro having slipped into the vacant seat at Keith’s side and they clink glasses, grinning at each other, and watch their friends fool around with karaoke until Lance snatches the mic from Pidge and with a little pointed cough attracts everyone’s attention.

“So today is a very special day. It’s 23rd of October, the weather is mild, the wind a bit ass-biting but damn right my ass is gorgeous—“

“LANCE!” Hunk makes a notion of a finger moving across his throat but Lance only waves him off.

“And today is also a very special day because my best friend Keith has been born today, twenty-six years ago.” Everyone lets out a boom of cheering and Keith doesn’t mind his cheeks heating up at the attention, doesn’t mind when Shiro nudges him a little on the elbow and motions to go join Lance on stage. Keith doesn’t want to leave Shiro’s warmth but it is Lance, and there’s no one closer to him in the entire world.

Lance’s eyes are gleaming suspiciously when Keith approaches, stopping by the steps that lead up onto the stage.

“I’ve never had a friend as good, as loyal as you, Keith, and even if we know each other for about—“

“Fifteen--?”

“Sixteen years and almost two months now,” Lance continues, and Keith realises he’s counted it right – they have met at elementary school, after all, “and honestly, all those years? It isn’t really enough time to make me get tired of you, buddy.”

Keith wants to scoff at the tease but doesn’t want to distract Lance.

“You’re brave, and loyal, and stubborn as hell, and I am so—so ridiculously proud of you, Keith,” Lance’s voice wavers and Keith makes a step towards to him, his own eyes prickling. “I’m proud of how you’ve grown from that little, scrawny kid who was ready to fight anyone into this—this strong, beautiful young artist you are today.”

“Lance.”

Keith is on the stage now, too, and there are subtle tears running down Lance’s cheeks but he doesn’t wipe them away.

“So, ugh, why am I crying,” Lance sniffs and their friends make “aw” sounds and Keith glances at them, at their touched smiles and clasped hands. Pidge raises a half-empty bottle of Jack in the air after taking a swing from it and Keith shakes his head.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Keith whispers quietly, and Lance gives him a grateful look.

“What I’m trying to say is that—I’m incredibly lucky to have met you, Keith. And on this day, when we’re all here celebrating your birthday, celebrating _you_ —There’s no other place I would want to be but here, by your side. Happy birthday, Keith, from my whole heart.”

Keith doesn’t waste any time and opens his arms for Lance and they hug, tightly, right in front of everyone. “Thank you,” Keith whispers into Lance’s hair and Lance grins through his tears.

After Lance’s speech they all open up a bottle of champagne – the cork nearly knocking Matt out cold – and it is the time for the gifts. Keith hasn’t been expecting any from his newer acquaintances but Romelle surprises him with a soft smooch on the forehead and a TES hoodie that has Keith’s jaw dropping.

“It’s super warm so that you’d never catch a cold again,” she says with a sweet smile and Keith thanks her wholeheartedly.

Allura and Hunk are next, and Keith isn’t sure whose hug has had his ribs groaning against each other but when he sees Allura smiling and presenting him with a letter printed on paper way too fancy not to leave Keith anxious as he quickly reads through it, balking at the signature, at the whole idea of what Allura is offering.

“Allura, I can’t just—“

“Keith, please, just give it a try, okay?”

“It’s too big for me. Working with you _and_ your father--”

Allura is gentle when she puts her delicate hands on Keith’s forearm and gives him an encouraging squeeze.

“Just try it. It’s only one exhibition, but it also opens a whole career path for you, Keith.”

It’s a lot to process so Keith just nods, holding the invitation letter in his shaking hands. He is so grateful to Hunk who hands him a whole box of homemade donuts and he immediately takes one out, groaning at the heavenly taste.

“And while you’re at it,” Hunk says, and then there’s another formal paper handed to Keith, this time a contract to start working at The Lion’s Diner mid-November and Keith grins, signing it and accepting Hunk’s excited hug. When Keith had been sick, he’d e-mailed Hunk his CV and they had a chance to talk over all the things that are required for starting a job at Hunk’s, and it had made Keith a little less anxious about just barging into the position so suddenly.

The whole experience of receiving the gifts is absolutely surreal, but when Matt, Pidge, Lance, and Shiro crowd in around Keith, he immediately frowns, confused by their smug faces.

“Close your eyes, Keith,” Shiro says as he hands Keith his jacket – he has completely forgotten he’s taken it off. Still suspicious, Keith puts it on and closes his eyes as requested. He lets his friends lead him down the stairs and outside, trusting the steady grip of Shiro’s prosthetic as he helps him navigate through the crowd, the Holts and Lance trailing behind the two.

Keith sucks in a breath as the chilly October air hits his heated skin. It’s getting closer to midnight now, though Thayserix is full of life even on Tuesday night. Shiro pushes him gently to resume walking, and the excited whispering between Matt and Pidge is catching Keith’s attention. He doesn’t get to find out more since Shiro shushes them, but after a few more moments of walking they stop, excited murmuring between the Holts renewing.

Keith is drunk on happiness already, though he still wonders what can possibly this whole ordeal mean. Shiro’s quiet whisper to open his eyes sets Keith’s skin to prickle pleasantly, the ghost of his breath warming his cheek.

The first thing Keith sees is the sky, black and endless, Luna heavy and almost full above their heads. Then, his gaze falls down and he realises they are at Thayserix’s parking lot and—

“Are you...  giving me my bike?” Keith asks, perplexed, as his good old red hoverbike rests proudly in one of the lots.

Lance is about to say something, words ready to fall off his tongue but he catches himself, frowning.

“Well, technically, yes, we are,” Pidge says as she fixes her big round glasses.

“You should try starting it up,” Matt adds with a mischievous light in his eyes.

“Why would I do that, it’s been busted for three years now and- wait.”

The realisation dawns upon Keith's dopamine-overdosed brain as slowly as the unhurried movement of the celestial bodies above their heads. Shiro tries and fails to hold back the grin that has Keith narrowing his eyes at him.

It has taken Keith slightly more than a week to recover from his fever, so he had spent his time at home working on the commission for Kuron. He had Lance and Pidge visiting him from time to time during that week, and he was chatting with Allura and Shiro almost every evening though once he was well enough to return to work (and sign that sweet, sweet resignation letter together with Pidge) he could never quite get anyone but Allura to hang out with him. Keith thought it was suspicious at first but rolled with it anyway.

“What have you done?” Keith demands, turning on his heels and glaring at his friends.

“Nothing--?” Lance mumbles and then, finally, snaps under Keith's glare. “Okay fine it was Shiro's idea in the first place so blame him.”

“Lance—” Shiro begins but Keith cuts him off with his hand raised.

“What was your idea, Shiro?”

He sighs and gently turns and pushes Keith towards the bike, motioning him to climb into the pilot's seat. Keith knows his bike like the back of his hand, every scratch and dent and the way how the old paint begins to peel off in places. Shiro hands him the old-fashioned starter keys with a tiny lion on the keychain and Keith frowns, wondering how did he get them in the first place.

“Keith,” Shiro's voice is so ridiculously soft, each syllable rolling on his tongue, “do you remember how on the night when we've first met you've told me that your bike was busted?”

Keith remembers that day vividly, the way how Shiro's muscles caught the light in Allura's studio, the way how Keith's entire body had decided that yes, _this one_ is the man Keith, unknowingly, has been craving for his entire life. “I’ve said it is impossible to fix it because they don't produce engines like that anymore.”

Shiro smiles. “I guess we’ve done the impossible.”

Keith's hand moves on its own accord as he slots the keys and turns them. Keith yelps when the dashboard comes to life, when the bike is alive underneath him, engine purring as if in greetings of an old friend.

“No way,” Keith manages to breathe out, too in shock for anything more coherent.

“It's true that no one produces those aluminium parts anymore,” Matt says as he and his sister come closer. “We’ve had to find a completely new engine and modify it to the optimum compatibility with this retro baby.”

“We didn't have much time before your birthday and were working day and night to get it done,” Pidge adds. “But I've got to say I'm pretty impressed with what we've achieved in just two weeks.”

“Could’ve helped if Shiro had come up with the idea a little sooner but—”

“Yeah, yeah, you'll never let me off of it now,” Shiro rolls his eyes.

“It worked in the end,” Lance points out. “This baby is resurrected from its ashes like a phoenix.”

“ _This baby_ ,” Shiro mimics Lance, “now is lighter, faster and more manoeuvrable than before, and almost as powerful as ATLAS.”

“Oh? I can outfly you now, Lt.?” Keith smirks, sensing a challenge.

“I've said _almost_ ,” Shiro points out, though there is the gleam of competitiveness to his tone. “ATLAS is state-of-the-art for a reason, after all.”

“Oh, so it's on, Shirogane,” Keith grins as Shiro rolls his eyes and suggests Keith to hold his horses.

“I’m not going to race you, Keith, in the middle of the city—“

“I can’t believe it, Shiro’s bailing out of a challenge?” Matt says in a mocking tone and Keith swears there’s a little growl escaping from Shiro’s chest.

“I’m not bailing,” he says, “there’s no point in a race when neither of us is sober enough for it and Keith has no practice piloting his upgraded bike.”

Lance and Pidge share a look when Keith gives in to Shiro’s reasoning, though there’s nothing stopping him from lifting off anyway and doing an experimental lap across the parking lot, the wind blasting around his body and playing with his grown-out hair, nearly knocking off his star crown but Keith doesn’t care so happy he is to be reunited with his bike. When Keith finally lands, he pulls his friends in for a hug and doesn’t let go for a while until he is sure he’s communicated his thank you enough because the words are suddenly failing him.

 

They dash back into Thayserix to get warm again, and Romelle laughs at their frozen fingers and red cheeks.

“Oh c’mon, guys, we’re in a club, the dance floor is literally right there!”

There’s no use in fighting the force of Romelle’s pull as she drags Keith along with the rest to the dance floor on the third level of the building, and it’s quite crowded there to make Keith frown anxiously at all the foreign bodies brushing against his as he, the Holts, Lance, and Shiro reach the rest of their group already busy dancing to the beat that somehow gives Keith the vibes of the Afterlife club in Mass Effect. He says as much to Pidge and she nods excitedly. They both kind of nerd out very hard on the series and Keith is about to ask her to do the Shepard dance with him when Allura whisks him away to claim his first dance of the night.

It’s awkward for Keith at first, especially when he spies Lance looking at them a little jealously, but Allura is grinning and wishes him a happy birthday again and guides Keith through the steps until he feels his body finally warming up after his short flight.

Lance doesn’t wait for too long as he drags Keith to dance with him and Pidge after Allura, and its mostly just ridiculous limb-waving and laughing but it’s just them and the way how they are around each other, unafraid to be silly and young. One by one, the rest of the gang joins in, their dancing gaining a bit of finesse, and Keith once again marvels at the sheer energy flowing between them all, all strong, young, lively.

Keith bites his lip when Shiro crowds in closer to him and smiles up at the taller man as Shiro glides his hands up to rest on Keith’s waist and Keith returns the gesture, resting his palms against Shiro’s shoulders and they sway and move along with the music.

“How are you feeling?” Shiro asks, voice carrying just barely above the drumbeat of the song and Keith’s own heart.

“Ecstatic,” Keith answers after giving it a moment of thought. Shiro grins at him, his eyes gleaming in the neon light as he watches Keith, his gaze darting between the stars in Keith’s hair and his lips.

There are questions at the tip of Keith’s tongue, and his thoughts dart between each of today’s happy moments until finally, Keith settles to be brave and ask what tantalizes him the most.

“So repairing my bike was your idea?” Keith raises his voice over the music and feels the surprise flicker in Shiro’s eyes and the way how he readjusts his grip on Keith’s waist, slowing them down.

“It’s been—more of a combined effort but yes. I’ve brought it up and if Lance hadn’t supported me it wouldn’t have happened.”

“Why?”

“We had to hijack your bike, after all,” Shiro laughs out, embarrassed by the glare Keith gives him. “Lance had to get the keys, Allura had to distract you enough so that you wouldn’t notice anything suspicious going on, and Pidge, Hunk, and I had your bike hooked up to ATLAS as we transported it all the way to the Garrison—“

Keith is gaping, mostly in outrage he hasn’t noticed the keys gone, and the way how the whole thing has been executed right under his nose. Shiro is positively nervous now.

“Keith?”

He shakes his head, staring down at Shiro’s black tie and the way how his whole chest glows under the neon lights, and he feels ridiculously silly and light-hearted until the first spark of laughter bursts free from his lips and he cackles, shaking with it, in Shiro’s arms.

“No fucking way—“ Keith manages to finally start forming words instead of giggles, “You guys are amazing!”

“So this means you’re—?”

Keith grins up at Shiro, open and cheeks flushed, and the moment is infinitely long between them before Keith untangles himself from admiring Shiro’s beautiful features and replies,

“Incredibly glad that Lance has green-lighted you to steal my bike, Shiro.”

Shiro smiles back, and there’s something proud in the look he’s giving Keith. He knows he will treasure it. He already does.

Keith ends up as a dance partner to all of his friends, and he continues dancing even if his entire body begins to ache. When the slower songs start Shiro finds him again, and Keith all but slumps into Shiro’s chest, letting him support his happiness-overdosed weight. Shiro takes the burden easily, and shields Keith from any other patrons that try to come too close to them, Shiro’s height and broadness of the frame making anyone – regardless of their state of sobriety – to give him a respectful berth of free space.  

Keith admits he’s also tipsy and he knows it will cost him tomorrow but he doesn’t care, and he melts into Shiro’s form as they move. Lance and the rest have long since left the dance floor for finishing up their drinks downstairs, so it’s just him and Shiro now, and the music that still gets Keith to think they are off on some faraway alien planet, both space explorers on a mission to find a new home for humanity.

Or something like that.

Shiro hums something under his breath and Keith only notices it because he feels the vibrations of the sound rumble through Shiro’s chest. When he looks up at him, brow quirked in question, Shiro smiles impossibly softly.

“I’ve just wondered... What if you _do_ beat me at the race?”

“You’d never hear the end of it,” Keith grins. “Not from me, at least.”

Shiro rolls his eyes but brings his arms tighter around Keith’s frame until it is more of a hug than anything else.

“I wouldn’t want to lose to anyone else.”

Keith laughs at that, and presses his cheek back into Shiro’s chest, relaxing enough to have his mind block out all the other people around them, foreign sounds and smells overloading his senses, and concentrate on Shiro’s scent and the way how his heart beats right under Keith’s ear as they move slowly in sync to the music.

“Happy birthday, Keith,” Shiro murmurs into his hair, and Keith sighs happily, hugging Shiro back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've no shame apparently but i wanted to practically overdose keith with happiness and pining  
> anyway, i keep forgetting to share the [ aesthetic board ](https://www.pinterest.com/voidslantern/aest-with-every-brushstroke/) for this mess
> 
> find me on tumblr/twitter @voidslantern


	10. i will come to you blind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a bit of a roller-coaster for Shiro so here's a panic attack trigger warning that starts at "It’s still a few miles till they would reach the outskirts of Arus" and ends at “Do you need some time to rest?” in case you would prefer to skip it.

Shiro wakes up rock hard and panting from yet another wet dream of Keith, weak from the way how Keith’s strong, lean body fit so gloriously between Shiro’s legs, from how his sharp teeth found all the right spots on Shiro’s neck and how that hot tongue was always there to soothe out the pain from the teasing nibbling at Shiro's skin.

The sheets are all tangled around Shiro’s body so he tosses them aside, hissing at the change of temperature as he sits up against the pillows and turns off the trill of his alarm clock. His heart is ready to break free from the ribcage but Shiro doesn’t mind. Doesn’t mind the certainty that Keith has such an impact on him that the first thing he does upon waking up is to slide his flesh hand below the band of his boxer briefs and palm his aching, already leaking erection, thinking of Keith’s plump lips and dagger-sharp eyes.

At first, his movements are jagged and broken, and Shiro hisses again, dragging his bionic arm up his torso and tugging his shirt up, exposing his chest. The rough touch and twist of the metal fingers on his swollen nipples reminds of the sensation of Keith’s teeth on him, and Shiro arches into it, his flesh hand pumping with just the right speed now.

The dreams have begun about a month ago when Keith had been in his own bubble of grief and Shiro didn't know but still ached for him. The first night when it happened had Shiro wake up at the ungodly early hour and marvel at the way how quickly Keith had found his way into Shiro's subconscious. Not like he minds it – he welcomes it, cherishes every time he sees Keith.

The dreams aren’t always erotic. More often than not, Keith appears as a constant presence is Shiro’s life. If Shiro is overworked and dreams of drilling evasive manoeuvre tactics into the heads of his young cadets Keith will be there in the dream, smiling crookedly at Shiro from where he leans against the windowsill in the classroom.  Sometimes, both Shiro and Keith are pilots, and they fly and dance together high up above the clouds, and Shiro laughs and revels together with Keith, their jets trailing paths that are only for the two of them and no one else but sunlight and wind and wonder at the world below them and the expanse above.

Even when Shiro has his nightmares and can't find the way out, reliving the crash over and over again, hearing Matt’s panicked screams and Sam's desperate “I love you both” before they hit the ground, when the darkness makes a move to claim Shiro, Keith will call out his name and guide him back to the light, filling Shiro's soul with energy and passion, and even if the burden of Shiro's trauma is still there, carrying it doesn't frighten Shiro as much with Keith by his side.

And then, there has been that one dream that holds a special place in Shiro’s heart, of matching golden bands on their fingers and a life built together in their cosy little house, a simple life but full of adventure, full of the wonder at the world around them, full of unconditional love for each other. Now, when Shiro’s hot blood makes him writhe with arousal, he recalls that dream with tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

“I have to tell him,” Shiro whispers into the warm air of his bedroom, his thumb flicking over the sensitive head of his cock. “Fuck, I have to tell him.”

Shiro yearns to have Keith’s weight on him again, the sensation in the dream so vivid that it has left a ghost of it skittering across Shiro’s body even after waking. The slick, wet sounds and Shiro’s pants and quiet moans carry through the room and he can’t take it anymore. Greedy, he licks at his prosthetic fingers, wetting them enough and shifts his position, spreading his legs and Shiro moans at the first bionic finger probing at his entrance and pushing in.

His thoughts skitter but always revolve around Keith. On him, fucking him hard into the mattress so that the whole bed would groan and threaten to fall apart. Below him, black hair pooling around his beautiful face as Shiro would kiss him, worship him in every way he knows.

When one finger isn’t enough, Shiro adds the second, moaning out loud as he stops briefly, re-adjusting, then resumes his frantic ministrations, and he's riding it, panting as he imagines Keith doing all of this to him and nearly comes just from that thought alone.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, feeling the beginnings of the release build up within him, Keith’s sharp eyes and plump lips driving him mad, and his pace stutters. With effort, Shiro slows down, begging to prolong this, prolong the feeling of not being as alone as he usually is. He bites down on his lip again, thinking of the stars in Keith’s hair that had been driving him mad through the entirety of Keith’s birthday party, how much he wanted to steal Keith away, strip him down -- only leaving the star-crown on – and worship every inch of his body, make love to him until Keith is a whimpering, sated mess.

Shiro’s strokes are deliberately slow now, drawing out the pleasure, the arousal that thumps demandingly through Shiro’s blood as his bionic fingers work on his hole. A drop rolls down his temple and his entire body is covered in a fine sheen of sweat though it does nothing to cool Shiro's need.

It might be nearly the end of October but Shiro’s body still carries the memory of Keith’s touch as they danced at Thayserix, the way how their bodies glided perfectly together, the sweat on Keith’s skin, the occasional grind of their hips... Shiro curses again, fucking up into his hand, his mind chanting Keith’s name with brutal, primal intensity. It quickly builds him up again and this time, Shiro gives in, gives in to wanting Keith so much the first thing he does in the morning is to jerk off to the thought of him.

It is like a flame licking up at Shiro’s senses, shuddering through his muscles, burning his lungs, burning his soul into a crisp and with a low, deep moan, he comes, hot and sticky, into his palm and across his stomach, brows knit together as he breathlessly pants out Keith’s name.

 

It takes Shiro a long while to come back after seeing the stars. He’s nowhere near sated, but it is a thirst only one man can satisfy – Shiro has no illusions about that. With a groan and on shaky legs, he climbs out of the bed, making a beeline to the shower, and he lets the water wash away the evidence of his desire. After a while of just enjoying the warmth of the water, the press of it on his shoulders and back, Shiro’s mind wanders back to Keith again, a daydream about how it would be like to share a shower with him. Shiro nearly whines when he thinks of those black locks wet from the water, how it would be like to run his fingers through them, wash them, make Keith purr with relaxation until they’d gravitate together again and Keith would soap Shiro’s body, deliberate, strong strokes that would eventually drift lower and lower, wrapping tightly around his cock, stroking him as they kiss—

Shiro laughs when he realises his fantasies have made him hard again and switches the water to shocking cold.

He definitely has to tell Keith.

 

* * *

 

The day at the Garrison Academy is ridiculously slow, especially since Shiro has a two-hour break between the classes. He has no immediate concerns to attend to since he already has his flight sim tests up and running without bugs – double-checking for the third time seems excessive even for Shiro at this point – so after eating his lunch at the Garrison’s commissary and brooding over Matt being busy somewhere in the labs, Shiro grabs a book from his office and stalks his way to the gallery. The one at the Academy is nowhere near as pompous as the one at the actual Garrison grounds, and much smaller both in size and the amounts of the displays in comparison. It’s a bit ridiculous, Shiro thinks, since the students need that spark of inspiration just as much as those people who visit the Garrison at the open-doors days.

Shiro spies a few cadets walking quietly around the gallery, and aside of them, it is blissfully empty. Shiro finds his favourite spot near the model of the Calypso, and sits down on the bench, grinning as his fingers run over the gilded title of the fantasy novel. The fact that Keith has brought him this book without even asking has made something silly and hopeful within Shiro’s chest raise its head and take notice. The fact that Keith has remembered which book Shiro was trying to read when he visited while Keith was sick makes that same silly something purr and celebrate. Shiro is already on the second half of the novel – and Keith has given him the book yesterday, hinting it’s a part of a series –and now he’s determined to spend the rest of the free time he has reading it before going to teach his next class.

When Shiro finishes a particularly emotional chapter -- the plot twist making him stop and scream on the inside because Lt. Shirogane cannot be seen yelling at a book in the middle of a gallery – he frantically checks his watch. It’s still half an hour untill the class, so he turns the page, too eager to find out what happens next, and a small piece of paper falls out of the book.

Curious, Shiro picks it up from where it fell to the floor and unfolds it.

“Oh. OH!”

Shiro grins, recognising Keith’s steady script.

_So if you’re not yelling right now I’m judging you because I yelled. I SCREAMED, SHIRO. Who does such things to their characters?! Stuffing the main character into a magical realm while everyone but his love interest believes that he died and moves on? IT HURT LIKE MF SHIRO. I was so frustrated I tossed the book across the room. UGH_

Below, there’s a doodle of the two main characters, incredibly cute and funny and holding hands as they both judge the plot twist and Shiro laughs out loud, imagining Keith taking his time to draw it. Biting his lip, Shiro takes out his phone and quickly types a text to Keith.

                S: _Found your note. I’m yelling, too. I wasn’t expecting THAT to happen_

Keith replies a few moments later.

                K: _I know, right?!_

K: _I was upset for a week. Even after if I’ve finished reading the whole book, I was still so upset fuck that was horrible_

Shiro glances at the novel, contemplating the number of pages he still has to read to finish it.

                S: _So how many books are there in the series?_

K: _4 more. I’ve them all if you’re up for it_

S:  _YES_

K: _THEN READ UP SHIRO_

Shiro grins throughout their entire conversation and knows he’s falling in love with Keith a little more. He’s never even considered that he can get excited about reading books again, but Keith manages that, manages to fuel Shiro’s old hobby with the new passion. The fact that he gets Keith to discuss said books with is even more of a reason to make Shiro’s lips twitch as he considers the doodle and decides to ask Keith about it.

S: _So I take it you ship them?_

K: _Of course I do!_

S:  _Do they hook up in the end?_

K: _SHIRO READ THE DAMN BOOK I WON’T SPOIL ANYTHING TO YOU_

S: _But I need to knowww_

S: _KEEEEITTTHHHH DO THEY HOOK UP???_

K: _I won’t tell you a single word about it Shiro_

S: _:(_

                S: _Keith_

The video call startles Shiro at first but he answers it regardless. Keith is glaring at him from the screen but Shiro can still make out how hard he tries not to laugh.

“I just have to say it to you in person,” Keith says then stops, frowning, “Well, _almost_ in person, that I will not spoil the series to you.”

Shiro blinks then pouts as innocently as he can. “Please?”

“No. The books are too great. You’ve gotta read them yourself.”

“But—“

“No. Read the books.”

Shiro rolls his eyes, slouching a little in his seat. “Fine, fine, you win. Though keep the rest of the series on the ready – I can read pretty fast.”

“And yet you still ask for spoilers? So impatient, jeez.”

There’s a tease to Keith’s tone and it is Shiro’s undoing as he feels his cheeks heat up. He wants to answer with something witty in return but he can’t quite find the words. He knows he’s wasting the precious minutes when they both are free to talk – Keith clearly is having a lunch break, but Shiro knows those never last long, and here he is, having no idea what to say to Keith so he just pouts again, frowning at his own shyness. Keith chuckles at that, and it takes quite some bravery from Shiro to look at the screen of his phone.

Shiro’s lips are going to be ruined from all the biting he subjects them to these days but it’s the only thing that stops him from whimpering from the sight of Keith. His messy hair is tied into a loose ponytail – Shiro sees it when Keith turns to say something to one of his colleagues – and the sliver of exposed skin above Keith’s uniform’s collar has Shiro yearning to kiss it. When Keith turns back to face the camera, Shiro doesn’t catch himself in time.

“Is everything alright?” Keith asks, his brows knit together as he studies Shiro’s flushed face.

“Y-Yes? I’m just— Uh—“

Keith smiles so ridiculously sweet Shiro has to look away.

“Hey, Shiro, when are you done at the Garrison?”

Shiro hums, remembering his schedule. “At four. Why?”

“My shift ends pretty early today I was thinking maybe I could drop by and we’d take a trip down the valley?” Keith asks sheepishly. “I mean, _flying_ down the valley. The weather is pretty warm and all that—“

“You want that race, don’t you,” Shiro says, raising his brow but Keith shakes his head.

“I just want to fly with you. C’mon, how long until we’ll have weather as good for it as today's?”

Shiro pretends to consider it, well aware it makes Keith shift in his seat impatiently. “Alright,” Shiro finally says and Keith beams. “Meet me at the GA’s north gates?”

“The ones near the globe monument?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll bring the second book for you, too.”

“Will there be any more notes like this?” Shiro asks, showing Keith the little piece of paper.

“Who says that one is the only one for the book you already have?” Keith parries, smirking when Shiro’s eyes widen.

“What? There’s more?!”

“As I’ve said -- read up, Shiro.”

 

Shiro ends up distracted for the entirety of his class, and the cadets pick up on that, whispering between themselves until one of them finally asks him if everything is alright. Shiro laughs it off, saying he’s never been better, but the cadets aren’t satisfied until he gives in and admits he has a crush and doesn’t know how to confess his feelings. It is somewhat endearing to see the faces of his second-years lit up as they begin to ask him excitedly about it and giving advice on how to woo his significant other.

Shiro is incredibly lucky no one of the higher-ups walks in on them sitting in a circle by the flight sims and trading dating secrets but Shiro has never been the one to follow all the rules and regulations and he's good with getting away with it. The cadets adore him for that – for being always open and approachable for them, unlike some other instructors and officers who mostly keep for themselves and consider any hints at friendship and comradery between an instructor and his cadets an abominable breach of protocol.

 

After a heart-to-heart with his cadets, Shiro is more than certain that he needs to find a way to confess to Keith, the encouraging words of his cadets and all the good wishes and hopes that all goes well filling Shiro with confidence. It’s nearly four, so after closing up his office, Shiro promptly goes to the parking lot. The sun warms his skin and there’s almost no wind today, the blue sky clear and welcoming above his head.

Keith is right. It’s a perfect day for flying.

Shiro hums happily, putting on his helmet and climbing into his seat, thinking about how with the approach of winter these few weeks might be the last ones he gets to fly ATLAS before the weather gets too cold and snowy to make it enjoyable.

All of Shiro’s confidence and hopeful determination to confess to Keith today goes to hell the moment he leaves the Academy grounds and spots Keith waiting for him outside the northern gates.

Keith and his hoverbike make quite a sight together, and Shiro marvels at how Keith’s lean form fits so well with the lightweight bike or how nicely the knit scarf looped around Keith’s neck matches the red of his ride. And yet there’s no mistaking of Keith’s sharpness and wit, no way Shiro can miss the new edge of confidence in Keith. It’s written in the leisurely way of how Keith is sprawled in his seat, it’s apparent in the flashy grin he gives Shiro the moment he sees him.

Shiro lands a few feet away from Keith and hops off to greet him, and Keith clasps his hand in the both of his, grinning at Shiro’s Garrison-issue parka.

“What? It’s warm,” Shiro says when Keith pokes the Garrison emblem on Shiro’s chest pocket.

“Nah, I’m just wondering how much Garrison merch you guys actually have out there.”

“Well, there are the cups—“

“Yeah, I’ve definitely seen one at your apartment.”

“Then there are the bags, the stationary, the posters, the little candies, too...” Shiro lists the items by counting on his fingers. “The baseball caps, the pins, the stickers— and then there are the condoms.“

Keith gapes. “You’re bullshitting me, aren’t you? The uppity Garrison has condoms with their logo on?”

“Underwear, too.”

“No. I don’t believe you.”

Shiro crosses his arms over his chest, raising a brow. “Alright, next time I’m smuggling you over into the Academy so that you can have a look for yourself. We’re very dedicated to our merch.”

Keith looks adorably lost and not knowing what to do with himself, so Shiro takes mercy on him and changes the subject. “You ready to go down the valley, Keith?”

“Yeah, sure,” he smiles. “Can’t wait to get away from the city.”

“Same here,” Shiro says. They take a moment to discuss how far to the north do they want to go and settle to follow the road that leads all the way along the river, though Shiro is reluctant to go farther up into the mountains. Keith notices that but doesn’t comment, and Shiro is grateful.

 

* * *

 

As Shiro has suspected, Keith is fast and daring with his flying and likes to tease and challenge Shiro, and more often than not Shiro humours him. It’s so good and refreshing to break free from Arus and go into the wilderness. Autumn has claimed the nature in earnest and the hills are a scattering of beautiful, vibrant yellows and reds, and Shiro and Keith laugh and enjoy the sights, stopping from time to time to enjoy the view of the valley while the sun slowly sets, until Keith suggests going down to the river.

They enter a little contest between each other and Shiro makes it a point to show off his manoeuvre skills, Keith always pressing hard on his heels. They are a match, Shiro realises with warmth spreading inside his chest when Keith catches up to him, grinning from ear to ear. He watches Keith use his weight to make a sharp turn and break ahead of Shiro, only prompting him to increase thrust and laugh out loud, enjoying the competition. He still sees how Keith overcompensates with his stabilizers and can’t help but use that knowledge to his advantage, gaining on Keith again.

After a few miles of flying head-to-head, they are almost at the riverside. With a self-satisfied grin, Shiro speeds up and leaves Keith well behind. He swears he can hear Keith’s curse carry over the wind but it’s probably just his imagination as his whole being sings at the speed and the enjoyment of their uninterrupted flight together. Shiro lands at the shore where the river begins to bend, the mountain belt looming miles ahead and he promptly looks away, unease settling in so he concentrates on watching Keith’s form as he lands by Shiro’s side a few moments later.

“Woah, Shiro! That’s some flying,” Keith exclaims as he takes off his helmet, sending a few drops of sweat skittering. Shiro is panting, too, and even if the sunset is upon them and they should probably find the road to head back to Arus, he doesn’t want their little adventure to end, so he hops off ATLAS and takes his helmet off, too, grinning at Keith.

“You’re pretty great, too,” he says, and the corners of Keith’s eyes wrinkle so hard and genuine is his smile.

They go down closer to the water and Keith sets off to look for pretty stones while Shiro can’t help but pull out his phone and snap a few pictures of the river and the hills before the sun sets down completely. He watches Keith for a few moments, painfully aware of how his chest tightens at the sight of Keith finding a curious stone and examining it with so much wonder and joy, with the kind of openness he rarely sees on Keith when there are other people around.

He knows he needs to confess to Keith, or at least ask him out on a date, but he’s rendered powerless when Keith approaches him, showing his find, and Shiro is lost in breathing in Keith’s musky scent and watching his eyes sparkle with delight.

“K-Keith—“ Shiro breathes out and their gazes meet. The words are ready to slip off of Shiro’s tongue but he panics. “Uh-- care for a selfie?” he manages, mentally punching himself for giving in to his fears of losing Keith as a friend if he has read his signals wrong and Keith doesn’t see Shiro in the same way.

“Okay,” Keith replies a heartbeat later and steps closer. With a slightly shaking hand Shiro raises his phone and snaps a few pictures of them and the river, and Keith grins for each photo, his ease infecting Shiro and, finally, he relaxes and flashes a grin, too.

“We should probably head back to Arus,” Shiro says as he pockets his phone. “It’s getting late.”

“But we’ve barely got here,” Keith gestures at the river and the hills and Shiro sighs.

“I don’t want to leave, either, but we’re better to find the road before it’s too dark.”

Keith pouts but doesn’t protest. They do take a few minutes more just to watch the water, standing side by side and enjoying the view and each other’s company before reluctantly returning to their bikes. Shiro’s stricken by how actually big ATLAS is, especially in comparison to Keith’s bike sitting neatly a few meters away.  He says as much and Keith laughs, admitting that ATLAS’s size is quite intimidating. They end up talking a bit about the flying and Shiro can’t help but go into his flight instructor mode and explain Keith some things he has noticed about his piloting and Keith listens with curiosity and once they take off he doesn’t waste any time and applies Shiro’s advice immediately. If anything, it makes Shiro giddy as he follows Keith on their way to the road.

The night falls quickly upon them, and Shiro once again feels the unease crawl into his mind. He rarely has trouble flying after dark in town – it’s always light enough and Shiro knows Arus well enough to be able to navigate it without much trouble. Out here, in the wilderness, without any light but from their bikes’ headlights and an occasional vehicle’s? It makes Shiro’s mind wander and recollect the events he wishes have never resurfaced in his memory again, but those are a haunting, a burden he’s bound to carry for the rest of his life.

Keith never leaves his side as they fly, and Shiro is grateful for Keith’s unknowing support. With him, it’s easier to block out the intrusive thoughts, Keith is like a beacon of what is good and strong and beautiful and Shiro looks up at the sky and even if the stars aren’t out yet he still whispers his thank you for allowing him to meet Keith.

It’s still a few miles till they would reach the outskirts of Arus when Shiro’s whole being shatters into fragments of fear and panic and terrible memories. _It’s just a black truck driving by_ , he tells himself as he squeezes ATLAS’s hand grips so hard his flesh fingers begin to hurt.

He sees a dark narrow mountain road in front of him and a black shape coming at them from behind a sharp turn.

The truck has long since passed them but Shiro slows down until he lands off-road, Keith promptly following him. Shiro can’t get any words out, can’t breathe, can’t get any air into his lungs as he sees Matt’s frightened face and hears him yell “Shiro, look out!” and he’s steering their car away from the approaching truck, so desperate to avoid the head-on collision that is bound to kill them all at this speed he doesn’t account for the narrowness of the road.

“Shiro? Shiro, what’s wrong?” Keith’s voice breaks through to Shiro but he can’t do anything but to struggle with the belts of his helmet, scratching at it so desperate he is to get it off, so desperate for air. Keith hops off his bike and runs up to Shiro, violet eyes wide in panic. Shiro tries to anchor himself to them, to _him,_ but he can’t fucking breathe—

Keith chants his name like a mantra and helps him take off his helmet and Shiro gasps for air that still doesn’t come, fear gripping his windpipe so tight he feels tears form in the corners of his eyes.

He sees them break through the road barrier. He sees them fall through the darkness, down and down the mountain slope. Perhaps the trees have saved them from certain death, have slowed down their fall enough and protected from the fatal impact. The fall still has taken enough from Shiro and the Holts. And Shiro pays his price even still.

Another vehicle passes them by and Shiro tries to get off of ATLAS but stumbles, his body no longer under his control as he trembles, sweat beading down his skin and there’s nothing he can do to stop the panic attack. Keith sinks together with him to the ground, and Shiro doesn’t know when he has taken his helmet off but it helps -- looking at Keith’s unobscured face as he rides the fear and feels the ghost of the blinding pain in his right arm. He bends over, clutching at his head, trying to get the memories out of his head but he can’t, he can’t—

“Shiro,” Keith repeats, and there are strong arms wrapping tightly around Shiro and he leans into it, half-aware of the tears running down his cheeks. “I’m right here, Shiro,” Keith says into Shiro’s hair. “I’ve got you. You’re not alone.”

It helps that Keith has his fingers in his hair. Shiro counts the soothing strokes, counts every time Keith whispers his name. When he gains more control over his breathing, he counts his breaths, too. He doesn’t know how much time has passed but Keith holds him through all of it, never letting go and whispering little reassurances into Shiro's ear and it helps. He's never known something like this will help but it does.

Slowly, so painfully slowly, Shiro takes back the control over his own body. He’s weak, he knows that, but he forces himself to wipe away his tears and look at Keith. There’s barely enough light to make out the depth of emotions in Keith’s face.

“Keith,” he manages, his voice hitching. Keith cups his cheek, wiping away another tear that rolls down. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this.”

“You don’t apologize for something like this, Shiro,” Keith says and immediately winces at the harshness in his tone. “I mean—I would never—Fuck, Shiro.”

Keith pulls him into a hug, burying his face in the crook of Shiro’s neck, and holds him for as long as it takes to free Shiro from the last remnants of the haunting flashbacks. When Shiro shifts, Keith promptly releases him and for a long moment they just look at each other, taking in all that they have just shared. Keith doesn’t ask and Shiro’s not ready to explain anyway, but he presses his forehead against Keith’s and murmurs his thank you. Keith’s hand on Shiro’s cheek trembles lightly and Shiro still stands by his words. He has never wanted Keith to see him like this. He has never wanted his brothers and Allura see him like this, either. It is frightening, Shiro has no illusions on that... but Keith has endured it, has held Shiro throughout the entirety of it.

“I’ll tell you why, Keith,” Shiro whispers. “Not—not right now, but I promise I will.”

“I won’t force you to do that,” Keith protests but Shiro pulls away and looks him right in the eyes.

“I know you won’t, Keith. But I’d like to tell you.” He huffs, looking down. “Only Allura and my brothers have seen me like this and they are the closest people to me in the entire world. And,” he finds the strength to look up at Keith again and smiles through the exhaustion, “and now there's you, Keith.”

Keith is wide-eyed and he wants to say something but stops himself, reconsidering, his brows knit together as he studies Shiro carefully.

“Thank you, Keith,” Shiro says earnestly, and he sees the change within Keith, his eyes lighting up with something close to the realisation of how much Shiro values what Keith has done to him.

“I’m here for you, Shiro,” Keith says firmly and Shiro tucks the moment away into his heart. It gives him back his strength and carefully and not without the reassurance of Keith's hand on the small of Shiro's back he gets back up on his feet.

“Do you need some time to rest?” Keith asks as Shiro leans heavily against ATLAS.

“Yeah, give me a five.”

Keith leaves briefly to rummage through the storage compartment of his bike and comes back with a bottle of water for Shiro. He takes it with gratitude and downs nearly a half in one go. Keith is quiet, contemplating something until he can't keep the question in anymore.

“How often do the panic attacks happen?”

Shiro closes the cap on the bottle and puts it aside, eyeing Keith as he searches for the correct way to put his answer in.

“It varies. Sometimes, I don't have any for a few months, only the nightmares. Sometimes, the attacks happen every week. Every day, at worst.” Keith is standing with his back to the headlights of his bike so Shiro can't see his face properly, but even then Keith's little pained sigh doesn't escape him. “This one,” Shiro gestures vaguely at their impromptu camp, “is actually the first one in the past six weeks.”

Keith finally moves from where he has been standing and makes a few steps towards ATLAS and Shiro nearly reaches out to guide Keith all the rest of the way into his orbit. Even if the shared body contact has been necessary to anchor Shiro, he still craves to have Keith close to him again.

“It was a bad one, wasn't it,” Keith states and Shiro nods.

“I should have known it would happen. The nightmares were coming back but I was—I didn't want to think about it. Ignored it. Fuck.”

“You're strong, Shiro,” Keith says stubbornly. “There’s no mistaking that. You've survived. You are here, alive.”

Shiro desperately wishes he could see Keith's face properly but he's still standing in the shadows.

“I cannot possibly know the things you went through but I know one thing for sure - you're the bravest, kindest man I've ever met.” Keith makes another step forward, and finally the headlights hit his face and Shiro swallows hard at the sight, at the fire in his dark eyes. “My dad used to say that bravery isn't always about being heroic,” Keith continues. “It is also about going on despite being afraid.”

Shiro chuckles bitterly and looks down at his prosthetic. “Is that what you think of me, even after—seeing what a mess I am?”

“Yes,” Keith says with something unyielding in his tone. “Hell, even more so now than before.”

There’s a lump in Shiro’s throat but he manages to swallow it down. “I—I think I might start crying again.”

“Oh, I’m—Sorry. I’ll shut up,” Keith stammers out.

“No, it’s alright, Keith,” Shiro says. “Thank you.”

 

They let Shiro rest for a few minutes more and return on the road, Keith never leaving Shiro’s side. By the time they reach Arus, both are exhausted and hungry, though neither wants to part. They make a stop to grab some pizza and go to Shiro’s place, talking quietly about the approaching Halloween and the party for Kuron the preparations for which are well underway. Keith admits he’s nervous about meeting both of Shiro’s brothers, let alone Allura’s dad since the party will happen at his house, after all.

“You’ll do fine, Keith,” Shiro says reassuringly as they make their way back to the parking lot and he does his best to fit the pizza boxes into the storage compartments of his bike. “Besides, my brothers are nowhere near as intimidating as Alfor – imagine how hard Lance is freaking out about meeting him.”

Keith lets out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, he keeps ranting to me about it every day.”

By the time the boys finally settle in Shiro’s kitchen to eat, Shiro is so hungry his stomach rumbles. They fall into easy banter, neither mentioning the panic attack again, and Shiro allows himself to enjoy it – how understanding Keith is, how he tries his best to cheer Shiro up. He doesn’t have to do any of this, doesn’t have to be so kind to Shiro but he still is and it makes love bloom in Shiro’s chest.

Love. Such a big word, but Shiro knows what he feels for Keith.

It spills into his trembling fingers when he takes the second book in the series that Keith gives him, grinning from ear to ear and teasing that it will leave Shiro up reading at night. It cracks into his voice when Shiro asks Keith to stay a bit longer and Keith agrees. It flows through his body when they grab a few books and settle to read in Shiro’s living room, Keith not giving a fuck as he scoots closer to Shiro on the couch and they share the comfort and the body heat, using the single blanket as an excuse for it. But most importantly, it brims within Shiro’s soul. The wonder, the joy of knowing Keith, spending time with him, the excitement of finding adventure and challenge in each other.

Keith is warm and solid and cuddled up into Shiro’s side, and Black comes over to offer his own body heat and the purring, and Shiro relaxes, his worries fading away one by one until he’s left with only one concern.

_How do I tell him?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i tired of writing this fic? hell no. there's still so much to tell.  
> find me at [tumblr](https://voidslantern.tumblr.com)


	11. let our shadows fall away like dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brief mention of past Adam/Shiro.  
> to every bunny!Shiro & wolf!Keith artist - thank you.

Shiro is usually calm and composed before any sort of social engagements and important meetings. Presenting a picture either for himself or on the behalf of the Garrison is something that comes naturally to him – and it has let him get out of enough of tricky situations to make Shiro value this particular skill of his.

Why is it then that today his palms are sweaty and his feet can find no rest so he paces to and fro in Allura's childhood room, waiting for the guests to begin to arrive for the little surprise party Ryou and he have conjured up for their baby brother?

“Shiro, you're making my head spin. Please sit down before there's a trench left in the floor from all your pacing,” Allura complains from behind her desk.

She's been trying to attach the little witch hat she's won in the Halloween costume roaster Matt hosts downstairs for the last ten minutes, though the thing is about as stubborn as Allura. Shiro lucked out to have a wolf ears headband but he doesn't particularly care for it. Others may not be as fortunate – it looks like there is enough diversity in that bag of mismatch Halloween costume accessories to make a great laugh for some and a reason for teasing for others.

Shiro sighs, shoulders slouching a fraction, but he still can’t quite bring himself neither to sit down nor to stop pacing. He couldn’t even force himself to eat ever since morning, the lump of anxiousness in his throat killing off any appetite he might have had by now.

“I'm sorry,” he apologises and comes over to help Allura with the tricky little lock of her hat. “I’m just on edge with this whole thing.”

Allura turns in her seat and looks at him, her big eyes crinkling with laughter at the corners as she gives him a look. “Why? Everything is set and ready, Ryou is taking Kuron on the distraction trip for snacks and the guests should start arriving in about half an hour. Why would you be so nervous? It's quite unlike you.”

Shiro frowns and looks away from her, his eyes wandering over the room Allura and he used to hang out together in when they were teens and Shiro was whole despite his muscles forcing him to fight for a chance at a normal life every waking hour. Now, being in this room again makes Shiro ridiculously nostalgic for those times. There still are Allura's old doodles pinned to the pastel pink wallpapers, and her bookshelves are still filled with YA series and only just a few art books in sight, but this room is still as nice and warm as Shiro remembers. Being here now is like taking a trip down the memory lane but it still fails to distract Shiro from the impending meetings.

“How are you so composed? Lance and your father and uncle are about to meet and you aren't even remotely worried,” Shiro finally says to Allura as she finishes up with adding hairpins to support her heavy white curls that are partially pulled into a high bun and the rest falls down her shoulders in soft waves.

“Who says that I am?” she laughs out. “Lance is sweet and charming and all, but after Lotor...” she sighs, shaking her head. “I highly suspect that Father is going to give Lance a hard time after that whole—mess with Lotor.”

Shiro frowns. “It is not Lance's fault. He doesn't deserve that.”

“I know. I've had a talk with Father about Lance,” Allura says, her fingers absent-mindedly picking a lone pencil off her desk and toying with it, “and explained how much I would appreciate Father not projecting my previous relationship onto what we-- uh—Lance and I—”

She stutters and her cheeks turn red and it makes laughter rumble through Shiro's chest. And here he thought he is the only one with trouble voicing his feelings. “Allura, it's alright, I understand.”

She lets out a soft whine and slumps in her seat, so unlike her usual composed posture. “Why is it so difficult, Shiro? I know it's not even a year since Lotor but Lance is becoming so important to me I hardly think of the past. He's-- He's so sweet and bright and he makes me feel good and happy and nothing can bring me – us – down when he's by my side.”

Shiro finally sits down on Allura's bed and faces her, smiling at the tortured, pleading look she gives him. “You really like him?”

“Yes. More than that, even.” She flushes an even brighter red when she admits it, and Shiro feels ready to burst with happiness for his best friend. “Those few weeks Lance and I have spent exploring the town together, looking for the M&M stuff for tonight? I’ve never felt happier. I’ve never looked at Arus and really seen it. How beautiful it is in autumn, how there are paths and ways and sights I’ve never even considered before. And Lance showed me all of that – opened my eyes on the world around us. It’s like breaking through the ice and catching that gulp of fresh air I’ve been struggling to make on my own and I—I honestly can never express how much it means what Lance has done for me. What he keeps doing every day.”

“Allura, that's wonderful!”

She whines again, hiding her face in her hands. “Gosh, he's going to meet my family tonight. Keith is going to meet _your_ family tonight. We're so screwed.”

“Yeah.”

Shiro looks down at his hands, tracing the metal details in his artificial palm with his thumb. “I want to tell Keith how I feel about him.”

“Tonight?”

“Ideally, yes. Or ask him out on a date.”

Allura sits up again and Shiro catches her smiling at him kindly. “You can do this, Shiro. I know how happy it will make the both of you.”

“But what if I'm wrong? What if I've misread Keith? What if he doesn't want a wreck like me?”

“Shiro, no. Don't talk like that.” She gets up and comes over to sit by Shiro's side, her hands finding his and giving him a tight squeeze. “You’re a wonderful, strong man, Shiro. You're not a wreck and Keith knows that.”

“But—”

“I’ve seen how the two of you are around each other. I've seen you two dance together like nothing else exists in the world. And the way how Keith looks at you when he thinks no one is watching him? Shiro, he's in love with you.”

Shiro's chest tightens at hearing Allura say it. “How can you be so sure?”

Her eyes twinkle with mischief when she replies. “It’s a girl thing.”

“Allura, you’re not helping,” Shiro groans, falling back into the mountain of pillows on her bed and Allura joins in, cuddling into Shiro's side.

“We’re two idiots in love,” she laughs out. “Makes me feel young again.”

“You _are_ young, Allura.”

“Since when twenty-seven is young?”

“Since I'm almost thirty—Ow!” Shiro misses a chance to deflect Allura's light blow to his head and she laughs victoriously. “Okay, maybe I've earned that one-“

“Damn right you did!”

 

* * *

 

They hear the commotion behind the front doors well before anyone of their friends deems it necessary to ring the doorbell. Alfor’s house has been old-fashioned back when Allura and Shiro were barely eighteen, and almost a decade later it hasn't changed much – except for perhaps the increase in the amount of artwork, both Alfor's and Allura's, decorating its walls.

Allura and Matt rush over to open the doors and let the guests in, and Shiro lingers back together with Coran and Alfor as the both of the older men exchange jokes about feeling like parents about to host a sleep-over for kids.

It kind of does feel like that, Shiro thinks as he has to bite back a laugh at the sight of Matt tackling Hunk and Lance into a hug. Lance has Keith’s backpack thrown over his shoulders, and Pidge’s messenger bag in his hands while Keith is giving Pidge a piggyback ride though they both look exhausted and pale. No wonder – their boss is running them on fumes with all the extra shifts before their contracts at the store end. Shiro excuses himself from Alfor and Coran and joins in into the greetings, exchanging quick hugs with Hunk and Lance – before Allura claims the latter for the rest of the evening – and then turns to the yawning Keith and unusually quiet Pidge.

“Hey, guys. You look like crap,” Shiro says lamely as he supports Pidge as she climbs off of Keith's back and dangerously tips over.

“It's been our fourth shift in a row,” Keith mumbles, yawning again and rubbing at his eyes. Pidge curses their boss with vile words but in the next moment opens her arms for Shiro, hugging him tightly in greetings before she tumbles over into her older brother's arms.

“That’s just unfair to you both,” Shiro says worriedly as he studies Keith's blood-shot eyes and the dark circles underneath them. He wants to smooth them out and kiss them away and tuck Keith into a warm blanket and let him sleep for as long as he needs it but the man cuts off Shiro's daydreaming and simply pulls him into a hug, sighing into his ear as his whole body leans up into Shiro's.

“Pidge and I are still up for today's event, though,” Keith murmurs as Shiro brings his arms up and rests them on Keith's back, immediately feeling how tense the muscles under his palms are. Keith must be hurting all over by now from all those crazy overtime hours.

“Kuron and Ryou should already be on their way here,” Shiro says, and Keith picks up on the slight waver in his voice. He disentangles himself from the embrace and frowns, his head cocked to the side.

“Is something wrong?”

“No! No, everything is fine,” Shiro stammers out even though his knees are going weak from the sight of Keith's face so close before him. The urge to find out how do those pink lips taste like is irresistible, like breathing is a need you can’t live without. If Matt hasn't broken the moment by offering the newcomers to pick a random item from his bag of Halloween accessories, Shiro would've done something very stupid by now.

Allura circles their group around and comes to stand at Shiro's side as they wait for everyone to take off their coats and jackets and get their Halloween fix and Shiro glances back at Alfor and Coran, both men eyeing their group with curious expressions and talking quietly to each other. Hunk is the first one to break free of Matt's clutches and he greets their hosts with the warmth only Hunk can radiate, like sunshine personified. Even his brand new pumpkin hat adds to the golden glow of the young man.

“Aw, Pidge is a bumblebee,” Allura coos when Pidge grins for the first time since her arrival and high-fives her brother, who already has his princess crown propped up on his head.

Shiro grins when Lance gets red demon horns and Keith ends up with bunny ears, the latter not particularly thrilled by his headband and Matt having to wrestle it down on Keith's head. Allura winks at Shiro and steps forward, locking elbows with both Lance and Keith and leading them confidently to meet her father and uncle. Shiro takes a deep breath and follows suit, taking his place at Keith's right as both he and Lance visibly pale under the evaluating stares of Allura's family.

“Keith, Lance, this is my father Alfor and my uncle Coran,” Allura introduces them with a broad, if just a fraction nervous, smile on her lips. “Dad, Uncle, Keith and Lance are my friends from the art course and—”

“We know who they are,” Coran says in a grim voice as he twirls the tip of his impressive moustache in his fingers. Alfor’s glare is nothing short from piercing, though he remains silent as Lance squirms under its intensity. Keith takes pity on his best friend and with a quick glance at Shiro steps forward to take the first blow himself.

Suddenly, Shiro is very aware of how quiet the room is. Even Pidge, Hunk, and Matt tune down their chatter as they watch.

Keith extends his hand to Coran, smiling confidently at him. “Sir.”

Coran narrows his eyes, just that little intimidating squint he saves for only the most important occasions. Allura exhales in relief when the older man's mouth twitches and gives in to a flashy grin as he grasps Keith's hand and shakes it vigorously.

“Keith! It's so good to meet you! I thought you'd be taller though-“

“’scuse me?” Keith gapes at the down-to-earth way with which Coran asks him casual conversation-starter kind of questions and Lance snickers at Keith's startled expression. It only makes Coran's attention switch to Lance and have his way with teasing him. Shiro has to keep a straight face when he notices Allura making big eyes at her uncle and Coran deliberately ignores them.

It takes Alfor to finally let out a soft chuckle and come to the rescue, tuning down the eccentric personality of his brother-in-law with a simple gesture of a hand placed on his shoulder.

“Easy, you've had your fun, Coran. It's my turn now.”

“Father!”

Alfor shrugs it off nonchalantly and turns his attention to Keith first. To his credit, Keith straightens up under Alfor's evaluating gaze and Shiro freezes, realising it's not just meeting families for Keith – Alfor is his employer, too. Even if that exhibition is happening in three years, they are going to work on it the whole time, along with Allura and a few other artists Shiro knows are invited, too. Keith has been frantic about it ever since his birthday, and Shiro and he have spent many nights talking about this opportunity, Shiro drilling confidence and belief in self into Keith until he finally has settled down on giving it all a try.

“Sir, it's an honour,” Keith says as he, once again, is the first one to give his hand for a handshake. Alfor accepts it with a smile that curls at the corners, a smile Shiro often sees on Allura when she's sincere and curious.

“Keith, it's good to finally meet you in person. I'm quite a big admirer of your work.”

“Oh, um, really?”

“Told you so, Keith,” Shiro says with a little smirk and Keith gives him an unimpressed glance.

“It’s true. I do follow your Instagram, after all. I can't believe it has taken Allura so long to invite you and Lance here, though,” Alfor glances at Lance and Allura, both standing close enough to make it hard not to see them as a team, a united front. Shiro's own flesh hand travels up to rest on Keith's waist in support, and Shiro tries and fails to tell himself that Keith hasn't just leaned into his touch ever so slightly.

“We’re glad we're here now, sir,” Lance says and Keith offers a nod. “This house is so beautiful—so much artwork everywhere.”

“Alfor does have a case of a hoarder going on-“ Coran teases.

“I like art, thank you very much,” Alfor replies, completely unbothered.

“Yeah, we've noticed,” Pidge and Matt snicker from the living room, their heads poking above the back of the large L-shaped couch. There is indeed a lot of art displayed on every wall in the house. It is a collection that took decades to form, and each piece has its rightful place in a perfect harmony with the rest. For the third time, Shiro spies Keith's gaze drawn to the artworks, and he makes a mental note to take him on a tour around the house to have a better look.

“And you, Lance,” Alfor turns to the blue-eyed man, his head cocked to the side as he gives him the once-over and Allura steps closer to him, ready to stand her ground together with Lance. “Please, just call me Alfor. Keith, you too.”

“Won’t be a problem,” Lance beams. Alfor goes as far as to ask him a few casual questions and if at first, their conversation stutters and it takes Allura’s intervening to keep it going, though with each moment the men grow more accustomed to each other and shortly, they are chatting away. Keith and Shiro share a glance and slowly back away, leaving them to talk.

“Well, how are you feeling?” Keith asks the moment they find a quiet spot in the living room, their friends already busying themselves trying to figure out who sits where around the large wooden table. Shiro, Matt, and Coran have hauled it there from the rarely used dining room mere hours ago so that they can be both comfortable playing Monsters & Mana and have enough space to fit everyone (and everyone’s loud personalities) in one room.

Shiro is well aware why Keith is asking – they’ve last seen each other on the day of Shiro’s panic attack – and he replies with all the honestly he can muster, especially if it means wiping away that worry line between Keith’s brows.

“I’m fine, surprisingly. Didn’t even have a single nightmare in the last few days.”

“That’s good,” Keith smiles, too, though that worry line doesn’t quite smooth out. One of his bunny ears tips adorably, and it is ridiculously cute on him. Keith notices Shiro staring and his frown deepens. “What?”

“Uh! Nothing!”

“Huh.” Keith goes silent, rubbing tiredly at his eyes again and Shiro sighs in sympathy.

“Would a cup of coffee make you feel better?”

“Sleep for a year would make me feel better,” Keith laughs out, though it comes off bitter and he winces. “Sorry. I’m cranky.”

“Not more than usual anyway,” Shiro teases and it sets Keith wide awake though he doesn’t get a chance to parry as with a wink Shiro stalks away towards the kitchen, only stopping to ask if Pidge wants some coffee, too.

 

* * *

 

It’s so easy to push at Keith’s buttons to get him to show that fiery side – even now, when Shiro is at the safe distance minding his business making coffee, he feels the heated glares Keith sends his way, his skin prickling each time. Perhaps there’s a use out of having the living room spill into the neutral ground of a hallway that also hosts the staircase, the living room only separated from the kitchen by a small bookshelf with miscellaneous items and plants scattered in a creative chaos over its shelves.

Experimentally, Shiro lifts his gaze from watching the kettle boil and glances at Keith from under his lashes. They lock eyes from across the rooms and neither looks away. Keith's eyes are narrowed, and with his hands crossed over his chest as he leans casually against the back of the chair Lance is sitting in he is nothing short of intimidating. Also, incredibly sexy in those tight jeans and a thin burgundy turtleneck, his sleeves rolled up. Shiro hasn't been in the mood to pick anything fancy for tonight, so it's just a comfy pale blue cardigan Allura insisted he'd wear more (her gift, after all), a plain black tee underneath and dark jeans tucked into Shiro's favourite combat boots, though the way how Keith eyes him – an intense gaze that skims all over Shiro’s form – makes him wonder if the outfit really works for him.

Shiro is so busy with admiring Keith he doesn’t notice the kettle whistling for long enough that Coran comes over and turns the stove off, giving him an amused glance as Shiro apologises.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything,” he whispers and Shiro’s embarrassment threatens to spill out not just in his flushed cheeks as he opens his mouth to reply but the words fail him. Coran only smiles crookedly and pours some water into his mug, leaving Shiro alone again. Shiro glances at Keith – he's busy hiding behind his bangs, though there's no mistaking the way how Keith's shoulders shake from his suppressed laughter.

“Fuck,” Shiro whispers, not sure what to make of it all, and decides to stick to preparing coffee instead of— of whatever it is Keith and he have been doing before.

 

* * *

 

Ryou and Kuron arrive with snacks and broad smiles, and once everyone has settled down after the loud greetings and the usual teasing – and once Matt lets each take a try at the Halloween lottery, Ryou winning a cowboy hat and Kuron kitty ears -- Shiro takes the lead to introduce his brothers to the new members of their found family. Shiro’s hand once again finds its place on Keith’s waist, and briefly, he wonders how right it feels to hold him, to offer a bit of confidence and reassurance everything will be alright.

Lance goes in first, handsome smiles and loud words and silly jokes about Kuron’s purple forelock as he shields Keith from the first brunt of Kuron’s and Ryou’s curiosity, the same way how Keith has done for him earlier today until eventually there’s nothing even Lance can do to stop them from noticing Keith skulking behind Shiro.

“And you must be Keith?” Kuron asks, offering his hand for a handshake. “Shiro talks a lot about you.”

“I wonder why,” Keith replies with a little smirk but shakes Kuron’s hand and then Ryou’s, too. “Nice to meet you both.”

“If he annoys you too much or tells a bad pun – hit us right up, Keith,” Ryou says with a grin and Shiro wants the floor to swallow him whole. Why has he even bothered worrying for Keith if it’s him his brothers are going to roast tonight?

“Alright, alright, have a go at me,” he says with mock-tiredness.

“Aw, c’mon, Shiro, we have to catch up,” Ryou says as he winks at Keith and Lance and adds, “I bet you guys want to hear all the juicy gossip about the Golden Boy’s childhood, eh?”

“Yes please?” Lance laughs out and Shiro groans.

“This evening is going to be so long.”

“You’re the one who signed up for this, Shiro,” Keith reminds him and Shiro rolls his eyes at his brothers wiggling their brows suggestively.

“Might as well get on with it,” he mutters.

 

* * *

 

Kuron’s reaction to the Monsters & Mana surprise is far beyond any expectations both Ryou and Shiro might have had since the poor man bursts into grateful tears the moment he realises what everyone has done to make him a little happier. The final blow that sets Kuron into a whimpering mess is Keith’s paintings of Jiro, presented as prints in neat black frames. Shiro catches that weird look Keith is giving him again as he eyes the prints and accepts Kuron’s sobbed out thank-yous but doesn't say a word about it. The artwork indeed is beautiful; Shiro once again is stunned by Keith’s sheer talent. Even after seeing the works grow from a simple sketch and blooming into full paintings – concept arts, as Keith calls them – Shiro still takes his time admiring them together with his brothers.

“It’s really him,” Kuron murmurs, picking the prints again. “It’s exactly how I’ve always imagined Jiro to be.”

“Do you like the armour?” Keith manages to ask, his voice a little off. Even Lance picks on it, shooting his best friend a glance. “I couldn’t figure out what Jiro would prefer better – a splint mail or plate, so I did both versions.”

“They both are great, Keith,” Kuron says. “And the Flaming Sword? It’s perfect!”

Ryou grins up at Shiro as Keith and Kuron continue discussing Jiro, and the twins slip behind the table, Matt tapping on the Player’s Guide anxiously as he skips through his notes before the start of the session.

“I think Keith’s gonna fit in just fine into our little family, Ta,” Ryou whispers. There must be no limit to the ways with which Ryou always can come up with things that will embarrass Shiro, and this is no exception.

“Ryou, this isn’t why I’ve introduced you to Keith, and you know that,” he snaps back.

“No? Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure.”

“Well,” Ryou leans back into his seat, his hands behind his head as he looks appraisingly at Keith, “I do hope you’ll get your mind set soon because if you’re not tapping that, _I’m_ tapping that.”

“Ryou, what the everloving f-“

“Uh-uh, language, big bro,” Ryou laughs but stops at the sight of Shiro’s glare. “Jeez, Shiro, are you jealous?”

“No. Yes. Just back off, Ryou.”

“Oh my god. You’re actually jealous.”

Shiro frowns and turns away, toying absentmindedly with the case of the tablet he’s brought to the session. Ryou knows which buttons to push to get a reaction out of Shiro – they are twins, after all – but sometimes Ryou has no filter on what he’s saying, even if his intentions are good. He might even come off a little rude at times, though Shiro can’t quite blame him. There are some messed up things his brother sees as Arus PD’s homicide detective, and when he slips and breaks at the seams from all the horror – neither Kuron nor Shiro ever have it in them to get offended by Ryou’s words.

Shiro puts his flesh hand over his chest, marvelling at the way how his heart aches just from the thought of Keith with someone else. He doesn’t really pay attention to what is going on around him, busy mentally punching himself for having no balls to approach Keith right now and confess his feelings. If he keeps delaying it or trying to find the right moment... Keith is handsome. Beautiful. Smart. Talented. Those sharp eyes of his can do you in with a single glance. How long until someone braver than Shiro comes in and sweeps Keith away?

Shiro chuckles bitterly. It’s Keith who’s more likely to do the “sweeping” and has been single for what Shiro suspects quite a long time. They have never spoken of previous relationships – both quite enough preoccupied watching Allura’s and Lance’s develop – but if Keith finds someone he wants to be with, Shiro will support him fully, no matter how much it will break his heart.

It hadn’t been like this with Adam. Shiro wasn’t scared of messing up - he simply approached him one day and asked him out. Back then, all he cared about was getting laid. With Keith... It’s different. It’s his knees going weak at the thought of Keith accepting, and his heart shattering at the thought of rejection. It’s both his salvation and his damnation.

Perhaps, Adam has done more damage than Shiro has believed before, perhaps his shattered self-esteem and a whole bunch of insecurities after the accident are choking the confession down. Perhaps, he’s simply not ready to voice it, no matter how much he wants to say it to him. Perhaps he hasn't really recovered from the accident, and that brave, bold, and confident Shiro had died on that mountain after all.

None of it, especially Ryou’s teasing is helping, though it still makes Shiro realise his time is running out. He needs to act before it’s too late, before he loses a chance to romance the man he fell in love with so quickly, so fully.

It takes Keith to land ungracefully into the seat next to him and grin for Shiro to shake off his sombre thoughts.

“We ain’t got no healer, did you know that?”

“What?” Shiro blinks, confused.

“Romelle isn’t here. Her cleric was our only hope to survive.”

“Oh. Oh! You’re right,” Shiro laughs awkwardly. He spies Allura and Lance on the other end of the table, both talking animatedly to Alfor. “Allura’s character has some healing arrows, though it might not be enough for the whole team.”

“I’m not sure Hunk can cast healing spells, either.”

“I guess we’ll have to make do.”

Keith gives Shiro another weird look, this time staring at the headband Shiro has completely forgotten about until now, until with a hiss Keith snaps, snatching it off of Shiro’s head and startling him enough to briefly forget how to speak. Keith switches it with his bunny ears and puts on Shiro's wolf headband with a content sigh.

“You okay there, Keith?” Shiro asks, somewhat amused as he fixes the headband to sit more comfortably on his head.

“It’s been bothering me the entire evening,” Keith shrugs. “Had to set it right. Matt can kiss my ass.”

“Hey, I've heard that!” Matt bristles and Keith sticks his tongue out at him in reply.

“Well, you definitely look better as a wolf,” Shiro admits, admiring Keith again. Keith only glances at him briefly in reply and pouts, as if feeling the blush creeping up his cheeks.

“You’re—okay. I guess.”

It's enough to make Shiro's grin widen so much his cheeks hurt.

“Thanks, Keith.”

 

* * *

 

Matt starts the session soon afterwards, and with the assistance of a more experienced DM Coran, the team makes their first steps in the world of Monsters & Mana.

Ryou isn’t playing – he’s not a big fan of roleplay, so he’s just a spectator this time – but even without Romelle they still have seven players in total, and it’s getting chaotic at times. Shiro quickly learns that he’s horrible at rolling dice, and his poor paladin gets injured from the most ridiculous stuff like a branch smacking him across the face or tripping over his own feet. Keith is endlessly amused by it, though he keeps his half-elf ranger close by just in case, and more often than not manages to help Shiro's character out of tricky predicaments.

The session goes with its hiccups but it’s enjoyable nonetheless, and Alfor and Coran linger to watch them fool around well until midnight. They have found their way into a raider-infested cave by that time and now are busy running for their lives since the enemy – much to Matt's obnoxiously self-satisfied happiness – both outranks and outnumbers their mismatched party.

“This is the worst idea ever!” Hunk yells as his character takes an arrow in his shoulder and slows down, Allura's frantic search for more of healing arrows in her quiver bearing no fruit.

“Well, it was Lance's idea to check this fucking cave out!” Pidge says as her tiny dwarf comes back to pick Hunk's mage up and jogs now, carrying him bridal-style.

“I thought there will be treasure!” Lance whines back.

“C’mon, everyone, we can do this!” Kuron cheers and the team finds a tactically advantageous spot and decides to fight the approaching raiders. It's finally getting interesting, but Keith is quiet by Shiro's side and has been so for a while now.

“Keith?” Shiro asks gently as he nudges him but Keith only groans, eyes closed and his head resting in his hand. “Need a second coffee?” he jokes but Keith only tips a little, content to sleep right there, in the middle of a fight.

Shiro chuckles and shifts a little, earning an amused look from Ryou when he takes off his cardigan and carefully slips it around Keith's shoulders. Keith doesn't protest – only hums under his breath and leans back into the cushions of the couch. Pidge, surprisingly, is still holding up against the sleepiness, too invested into what is going on in the session.

Matt doesn't even bat an eye and simply teams up Keith's ranger with Shiro's paladin, though Shiro nearly gets them killed with his horrible rolls.

An hour later, when all enemies are finally defeated and the loot is shared, Matt, with the broadest grin as of yet, announces that they are the most ridiculous band of idiots he's ever played M&M with but he has still enjoyed the hell out of this session. Kuron gets up, teary-eyed again, and says his thanks for the amazing evening, and everyone cheers for him, all glad to have spent this day with him, as well.

“Wait, it's Halloween, too,” Ryou remembers belatedly and everyone groans. “We forgot to celebrate Halloween.”

“How could this happen?” Hunk asks, jumping to his feet and dashing into the kitchen. “I’ve made special pumpkin cookies and forgot to give them to you all!”

“Oh no, Hunk, that's rock bottom right there,” Kuron laughs as their friend comes back with a whole box of delightfully smelling cookies and each gets one to eat. Shiro has to wake Keith up so he can eat some too, and he's disoriented enough upon waking not to ask any questions at the cookie offered and just accepts, munching on it while rubbing at his eyes.

“Did we win?” Keith asks after a moment, the delicious cookie working its magic to wake him up all the rest of the way.

“Yeah, we did. Your wolf did some epic stunts, by the way,” Lance says, grinning. “Not so much for your half-elf, though—“

“What? What happened?”

Shiro’s cheeks tint with pink at the faces of their friends ready to crack with laughter. “Uh, well—I rolled a natural one at all dexterity checks so he might have—“

“He fell into the landfill, then fell into a pile of horse shit,” Matt lists off, “and when he had to attack the raider leader his sword got stuck in a wall because Shiro can’t roll a good attack either.”

Keith listens to the descriptions sceptically, but when Shiro shows him his final stats, he sighs and only says, “Well, Shiro, since you’ve rolled all of this, your paladin owes my elf new armour. Make it red.”

“Fair enough,” Shiro laughs. It’s good no one has told Keith about the partridge, the spade, and the anchor predicament. Shiro wouldn’t have been able to get away with _that_ so easily.

“So would you guys want to play again someday?” Kuron asks. “I know I’ve to be back to college by the end of this week but—“

“We could play over Skype,” Pidge suggests. “Waiting until all of us are back together again is just too long.”

“Yeah,” Hunk agrees. “I’m not even sure we all will be able to gather for Christmas again. Remember last year?”

“Wait, what happened last year?” Lance asks, glancing around the table worriedly as the expressions turned sombre at the recollection alone.

“We wanted to have a party at the Holts',” Allura explains, “but in the end only Pidge, Romelle, and I made it. Hunk was busy at the diner, Shiro wasn’t feeling well enough so Ryou and Kuron have stayed with him...”

“I had a date,” Matt chirps in. “It didn’t even go that well in the end.”

“At least we’ve had a girls’ night,” Pidge points out and Allura beams. “Not a single man in sight besides my Dad – and he’s the best man ever. It was perfect.”

At that moment, Coran walks in, already in pyjamas, and overhears Pidge’s words. She doesn’t see it, but he clutches his chest as if mortally wounded, and stalks into the kitchen, dramatically searching for a bottle of something strong. There is none – Alfor detests alcohol in his house – but it still serves Coran’s tragic little scene as he sighs and pours himself a glass of water – pretending to wipe away his tears -- and goes back upstairs.

Keith, Ryou, and Shiro have watched the whole spectacle in stunned silence, though the moment Coran winks at them on his way upstairs, they lose it, bending over in laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Allura asks, frowning, but Shiro shakes his head.

 

* * *

 

It is getting late, and most of their friends have left already. Even Kuron and Ryou leave since Shiro stays here for the night – there’s no point in going back to the city centre when in less than five hours Shiro will have to go to the Garrison Academy. It’s a much shorter trip from Alfor’s house – and Kuron is tired enough after his flight so Ryou takes him to stay at his place.

Only Keith and Lance linger behind, helping to clean up after the session the same way they always help at the art studio. Allura is beaming and thanks them, especially Keith since he’s exhausted enough to nap during the session but still helps Shiro and Lance haul the wooden table back into the dining room. Lance dashes back to Allura but Keith stays, mesmerised by the paintings on display there. Shiro’s heart tightens at the sight of Keith staring at the portraits and still lives and landscapes as if those are revelations of truth and beauty and the nature of the universe laid bare right in front of him.

Shiro knows a few backstories of the artwork in this room, somewhat surprised that even years later they are still fresh in his memory, so he tells those stories to Keith, pointing out the little details and secrets hidden in the paintings, and Keith listens with his lips parted slightly, still wearing Shiro’s cardigan, completely unbothered by how big it is on him.

If anything, the easy way with which Keith has accepted the gesture has made Ryou whisper that Shiro isn’t that helpless after all.

Once Shiro runs out of stories to tell, they both grow silent. They can hear the boom of Lance’s laughter coming from the living room, and the trill of Allura’s giggles rings through the air. In here, it’s quiet and a little dusty from the disuse of the room. Alfor claims he wants to turn it into a studio, but it’s been years and he still hasn’t started renovations, always too busy at Altean Arts.

Keith chews on his bottom lip, staring without really seeing at the study of a dell at dawn, and Shiro tries to find the right words to use to confess, but none come to his mind. Once again, that social skill of his fails him, and he’s all nervous hands and a frantic heartbeat, but he’s weak before Keith, vulnerable in ways he didn’t know he can be.

Shiro is so preoccupied with fighting for words, he almost misses the moment when Keith breaks the silence, his voice quiet though the tremble in it doesn’t escape Shiro’s attention.

“You keep doing that.”

“Huh?”

“You keep framing them.”

Keith turns to face Shiro, and even if his bangs are half-obscuring his eyes, Shiro still sees the embers ready to burn with fire dancing in them.

“I knew you were going to print the drawings – they are a gift for Kuron, after all, giving him a flash drive wouldn’t have cut it. But—You’ve also framed them.”

There’s so much disbelief and confusion in Keith’s voice that makes Shiro frown. “Why wouldn’t I frame them? Keith, your art is stunning. It deserves to be framed. Hell, it deserves to be displayed at galleries all around the world.”

“But you didn’t have to do it,” Keith insists, throwing his arms up in frustration. “You didn’t have to do any of this – making it a commission and clearly overpaying me, turning them into prints and giving them to Kuron as if it’s Mona fucking Lisa—“

“Keith, why—“

“It’s nothing!” Keith snaps. “My art is nothing! It will never get any traction, it’s just a hobby, for fuck’s sake.”

Shiro feels anger boil within him at Keith’s hell-bend antagonism. “That’s not true,” he says with steel in his voice. “Keith, that’s not true and you know that.”

“Oh, you think I’ve accepted those art jobs because I think I’m a good artist and can pull them off?” Keith says with enough bite to make anyone step back but Shiro stands still, staring down at Keith. “I know my place in the world, Shiro. I’m doing them because I’m broke, not because I’ve any inclination to have an art job.”

“But you _are_ a good artist,” Shiro says. “You’ve nailed the commissions, you’re rocking every task at Allura’s class.” Keith shakes his head, stepping back. It only makes Shiro press on. “Keith, have you seen Kuron’s reaction to your art? Or literally anyone else’s tonight? Is that not proof enough for you?”

Keith freezes, looking down. Shiro can see the turmoil in him, in the tense shoulders and shaking fists. Shiro steps forward to him, gingerly putting his flesh hand on Keith’s shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. The words Shiro wants to say finally form, even if it is still a fraction of what Shiro feels. “Keith, I love your art,” he says softly. “I love looking at it, I love listening to you talk about it, I love watching you draw. And yes, I will frame every piece because I know how much it means to you, Keith.”

Keith still doesn’t look up at Shiro, his hair hiding his expression from him, but Shiro is still giddy, knees going weak under him as he realises how much he’s just confessed.

The silence stretches, both infinite and fleeting, and Shiro is pierced by the intensity of Keith’s gaze when he finally looks up at him.

“Why are you so kind to me?” he asks as if there has to be a catch to it.

“Don’t you know?”

Keith’s eyes flash with emotions Shiro can’t quite tell apart, and he freezes when Keith leans forward, his palms cupping Shiro’s jaw, and kisses him fiercely on the lips.

It’s—not what Shiro has been expecting. Not the strength and the emotion Keith pours into the touch, his lips rough and demanding on Shiro. He’s too stunned to move, to answer it – his body is in a lockdown as his mind tries to wrap up around the fact that this is really happening and Keith kissing him isn’t another product of his lovesick imagination.

Too late Shiro realises he should have done something and Keith is pulling away, his violet eyes dark and cheeks flushed.

“I’m sorry,” Keith whispers, his voice broken. He steps away, leaving Shiro gasp as the wave of cold without him close. “This was a mistake.”

Shiro frowns, his lips finally parting but he only manages to murmur Keith’s name. It isn’t enough. Shiro isn’t enough, because Keith shakes his head, expression tortured.

“I’ve fucked up. I—I need to go.”

Keith dashes out, the door swinging shut behind him. Shiro’s fingertips touch his lips where Keith’s rough caress still burns on his skin, and with his heartbeat frantic in his ears, Shiro follows him before it isn't too late to fix it.

Keith is already dragging confused Lance to the front doors, Allura frowning at the pale blue cardigan in her hands.

“Keith, wait,” Shiro pleads, running up to them but Keith has already shut everyone out, his face an indifferent mask as he grabs his backpack and jacket and storms outside.

Lance huffs, putting on his coat, and turns, glaring at Shiro. “What have you done to upset Keith this much?!”

“I—I didn’t—I need to talk to him,” Shiro says, reaching for the doorknob but Lance pushes him aside.

“Leave Keith alone,” he snaps, pointing an accusing finger at Shiro.

“Lance, please—“

“Whatever has happened,” Lance hisses, completely unbothered by Allura’s soft warning, “whatever it is, I don’t care. I won’t have anyone hurting Keith, Shiro, not even you.”

Lance only stops to give Allura a quick kiss on the cheek and with a final glare at Shiro, he leaves, shutting the door firmly behind him.

“What happened?” Allura asks carefully when Shiro doesn’t move away, his greatest fear of losing Keith shattering the remnants of his heart all the rest of the way down.

He doesn’t recognise his own voice when he explains, and Allura’s eyes are suspiciously wet when she gathers Shiro and the shards of his heart in her arms and hugs him tightly.

“I know everything will be alright,” she whispers. “You both will find a way to fix this. It’s just a misunderstanding.”

“How can you be so sure, Allura?”

“I know it,” she says firmly. “I knew he was yours and you were his the moment you’d laid your eyes upon each other for the first time. Have a little faith in yourself, Shiro.”

“I don’t want to lose him.”

“You won’t, Shiro,” she murmurs into his hair. “You won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's taken me two complete chapter re-writes and a POV switch to get this done, along with dealing with the RL bullshit. hence the delay in updating. but at least act 2 is officially a go.
> 
> find me @ [tumblr](https://voidslantern.tumblr.com)


	12. •• the seeds i’ve sewn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brief (or not so) mention of past James Griffin/Keith

It's an odd feeling to have someone to genuinely care for you after being stuck in a loop of the cruelty of the world. It's not like Lance isn't enough, or Pidge. They both are wonderful, loving friends, and Keith owes them his sanity at the very least.

It's the fact that _found family_ really is a thing, that sweet, mutual love and respect that runs between this group Lance and Keith have found themselves a part of – this is what makes Keith wonder at how difficult it is for him to accept the truth that there indeed are kind people out there, who care and accept him the way he is. It’s even more difficult to let his walls and barriers fall all the rest of the way down for them but he’s done it for Allura and Shiro already. He can do it for all of them, too.

Keith is half-awake, roleplaying his character being grumpy and chaotic, listening to the said found family laugh and tease each other, all beautiful and clever and so impossibly kind. If they indeed were in some alternate reality, fighting an invading force – Keith has no doubts that each would be a hero, bringing hope and peace and victory.

Allura and Lance are sitting across the table from Keith, Lance's arm thrown casually around the back of Allura's chair as she laughs and whispers something into his ear. There's so much love and affection dancing in Lance's eyes – it doesn't escape Keith's attention that Allura's cheeks tint with pink when she pulls slightly away from Lance and their gazes meet. If anything, it looks like they are about to kiss but Matt is clueless as he interrupts their moment, and Keith sends a little glare their DM's way.

Shiro and Ryou are talking quietly between themselves on Keith's left, often slipping into Japanese. At first, Keith has been stunned to hear Shiro shift effortlessly between two languages, his voice changing its tones and lilting differently as he accommodates to Japanese, and even if Keith is only able to recognise just a few words thanks to a couple of anime shows he's seen, it's still mesmerising to listen to Shiro speak it.

Keith barely notices Ryou, to be fair, though briefly, the artistic part of him recognises how handsome both of Shiro's brothers are – it would be a delight to paint them. Yet, it's only Shiro Keith truly sees. It's only Shiro who haunts Keith's mind when he tries to sketch, almost as if his inspiration is asking for something but Keith can't quite decipher it yet.

Lulled by the merry atmosphere and the warmth that seeps into him every time Shiro's muscular thigh brushes against Keith's, he finally gives in to his exhaustion and snoozes, head propped in his hand. Vaguely, he's aware of Matt asking him something but it's Shiro who answers in his stead, and then there is a soft chuckle Keith labels to be Ryou's.

He's tired enough he gives in to Shiro's soft words he whispers in Keith's ear and coaxes him into taking a nap. He's warm and cosy and Shiro definitely has given him his cardigan and it's big enough to pass as a blanket and finally, Keith curls up, his exhausted mind shutting down in seconds.

 

When Shiro wakes Keith up with even more gentle words, Keith’s eyes finally popping open, Shiro’s smile is the first thing he sees. He’s a little startled at first, confused by the overwhelmingly pleasant feeling blooming in his chest at the sight of him. Briefly, he wonders of a life together with Shiro, where waking up to him would be a constant joy. It’s too good to be true.

Keith sighs, barely aware of Hunk offering him a cookie and he acts on autopilot for a little while, listening to his friends banter and glancing at Kuron from time to time.

Even though Ryou is Shiro’s twin and with the trained eye of an artist Keith sees the similarities between them – it has taken a moment, though, thanks to Ryou’s beard – Ryou still acts and holds himself quite differently from Shiro, let alone the youngest Shirogane. At times, it’s hard to see them as twins so different they are, and if Shiro hasn’t told Keith about it before, Keith would’ve never guessed it on his own.

Kuron, while being nearly a decade younger than the twins and having a mane of beautiful, pitch black hair that reaches just below his shoulders and is accented with a purple forelock - a distinct reminder to Keith of Shorter Wong -- is a lot like Shiro in many things. Their smiles curl similarly, and the even if Kuron’s eyes are slightly bigger and lighter than Shiro’s, both men’s eyes are sparkling with the same kind of mischief and intellect hidden behind equally long lashes. Even the way how they hold themselves, polite and considerate, is a clear opposite to Ryou’s nonchalance and cockiness.

Matt is ranting about their session and Keith is bored, so he loses himself in his thoughts and doesn’t immediately catch himself staring. When Kuron senses Keith's gaze on him, he is startled and confused at first, as if attention from Keith is too new and alien to him. Keith rolls his eyes, as if saying _Can you believe this shit?_ and Kuron's lips twitch until he gives in and flashes a smile at Keith.

Yeah, even that little dimple is so like Shiro's.

The itch to paint rises within Keith, burns through his lungs in a bolt of inspiration. Daring a glance at Shiro only makes it worse – there's hardly a day he doesn't spend admiring Shiro's features, so deeply in love he hardly realises just how quickly he has fallen into it.

How has he survived without Shiro for so long?

 

It's probably foolish. It's definitely a risk. But there are feelings, thoughts, skittering and rioting within Keith and his body reacts so differently and he's weak before all of it, he's weak before Shiro when again and again this man proves his unyielding, stubborn faith in Keith.

Even if Keith is always the first one to push people away, now he's the one to breach that space between them, he's the one to cup Shiro's face in his hands and lean up, pressing his lips into the fullness of Shiro's, kissing him with fire burning in his veins.

Shiro tastes like everything Keith could dream a soulmate would taste of. He's honey-warm, sweet yet bitter, strong and unyielding. It's like kissing the sky and the stars and the galaxies, all personified in a single man.

If that's truly what love is supposed to feel like, then Keith is never getting enough of it.

Even if it is this fleeting – the thrill of the kiss, the definite reaction, warmth spreading through Keith’s body until arousal from a simple caress like that settles firmly between his legs.

Dread comes next, the horror-struck realisation Keith has misread Shiro, that he is frozen beneath his touch. When Keith pulls away and dares to look at him, Shiro is pale with shock, his brows knit together and that small crease between them digs deeper than usual.

Keith has never felt colder in his life before, as if all that hope and light he's accumulated over the past few months have been knocked out of him in a single blow.

“I’m sorry,” Keith whispers, breaking. “This was a mistake.”

_I don't want to lose you._

Shiro's eyes are dark, darker than usual, and Keith has been rough enough on him to make his lips redden.

He can't quite tear his gaze away from him, but he forces himself to.

“I've fucked up. I- I need to go.”

Keith forces the words out, his voice hollow even to his ear.

Shiro makes a step forward, hand outstretched, but Keith is already building his walls back up, already shutting the only person he's ever let so close out.

Perhaps he is a coward. Perhaps he's been hurt enough by his parents abandoning him so early to sever his ability to let go of people easily but there’s nothing Keith can do. Fight or flight triggers, and there’s no fight left in him.

Keith storms out of the dining room, flinching when he realises he’s interrupted Lance's and Allura's moment, too, both of them hastily pulling away from each other and jumping a few feet apart, Lance's cheeks flushed the deepest of crimsons.

 _Shit_ , Keith mentally punches himself for his knack for all the bad timings today. It takes Lance one look at Keith to read him, though. There’s no need for any explanations, just Keith's hand pulling gently at Lance's elbow and they are leaving.

Keith belatedly remembers he still has Shiro's cardigan around his shoulders and the headband on, so he takes them off and gives to Allura. It feels like saying goodbye. Like letting go of that dream Keith has built in his head, in his heart, that maybe it will always be like that, that sweetness and all that flirting will last. Will settle. That Shiro will be a part of his life that means the whole world to him.

No. Shiro means the world to Keith anyway. It's something that is going to be a part of Keith for the rest of his life. In any reality.

 _It's okay_ , Keith tells himself when he hears Shiro's pleading, heart-breaking voice. He has no strength to face him now, so he busies himself by grabbing his stuff and unlocking the door, avoiding looking at him or at anyone at all. He really is a coward.

Lance steps up, going into protective mode as Keith closes the door to Allura's childhood home behind himself. Will his mistake stain the relationship between Lance and Allura?

Keith won't forgive himself if it will.

As he stands outside, heart frantically banging against his ribcage, crisp, cold night biting down his skin, he shudders, losing the fight against his tears. Hot, salty drops make tracks down his cheeks, little pathways of Keith's fuck-up, of his blindness, of his wishful thinking.

Shiro.

He can hear him on the other side of the door, arguing with Lance. Lance stands his ground, though, and Keith is grateful for that, for that loyalty of a friend he's too lucky to have. There's the bright, strong part of him that has been nurtured in the past few months roaring for Shiro, roaring to go back and face him. Talk this through. Explain how confusing it is for Keith to feel attraction when it's been years of him considering that part of self re-focused in his art.

Keith wipes his tears away and forces his legs to move. Lance bursts out and slams the door behind him, muttering something under his breath before he looks at Keith and his face falls.

“C'mon, buddy,” Lance says. “Let’s get you home.”

 

Lance’s blue Hybrid's engine purrs pleasantly, lulling Keith's over-anxious senses back into their usual, semi-adequate state. Lance is quiet, chewing on his bottom lip as he drives. The scenery is changing from Arus' suburbs, rows upon rows of neat townhouses and pretty gardens – now asleep in the approach of winter -- to its centre, a lot busier, a lot less spacey and green.

After a long silence only interrupted by the turn signal ticking, Lance huffs and finally asks. “So, what happened back there?”

Keith contemplates how to explain the reason behind the “extraction” to him but decides to send it all to hell and states it bluntly. “I’ve kissed Shiro. He didn't kiss back.”

“Oh. Oh boy.”

Keith rests his head against the window, its chilly surface helping gather himself as he explains what happened in more detail to Lance.

“Are you sure that he wasn't just... stunned?” Lance asks, glancing worriedly at Keith. “I mean, he looked pretty distressed when he ran after you. Maybe he wanted to talk?”

“I—I don't know. I've freaked.”

Lance grows silent again, though he grips the steering wheel with force, his knuckles growing white. “I should have let you two talk,” he says firmly.

“What would that change, anyway?”

“Something. You wouldn't be looking like a fucking wreck like you do now, for starters.”

“No, Lance. Stop it,” Keith murmurs, seeing regret and pain in his best friend's eyes. “You did everything right. I don't think—I don’t think I would’ve been able to talk to him right away. Or just look him in the eye. I'm an idiot. It's as simple as that.”

“Keith, if I weren't driving right now I'd kick your butt for saying that,” Lance snaps. “Let me just make this clear – Shiro is, like, one of the kind. He's literally the first person ever you've developed romantic feelings for-“

“He’s not the first one,” Keith interrupts.

“What, that James Griffin? Back at high school? He doesn't count,” Lance sing-songs. “Your relationship barely lasted three months before you've realised you ain't fucking him.”

Keith huffs, contemplating the easy way in which Lance has described Keith's struggle through the realisation that not enjoying being intimate with James had little to do with Keith's initial nervousness of having the first relationship in his life or finding the right approach to sex or figuring out what makes him “tick”. After three months of forcing himself to pretend to enjoy it, Keith had finally given up and confessed to James.

It’s not like James was a bad boyfriend. They had their rivalry dynamics, their personalities bounced from one another and they always could find something to tease each other about. This was well before the unintended (or not so) kiss in the back of their school's parking lot but when James had asked Keith out, he agreed, thrilled.

James understood. He didn't throw a fit or ask them to try more, try something different. He was so good to Keith he wondered if he had really made the right choice in ending their relationship, but as soon as they kissed their goodbyes... It took some time but eventually Keith figured that he didn’t truly love James. He liked him, he liked hanging out with him, but it was just that. There was no love, there was no attraction.

Over the years, Keith figured he doesn’t feel sexual attraction to anyone at all. There are only flutterings of inspiration when he sees someone interesting to paint, but this is it.

And then he’s met Shiro. And despite everything, he has fallen in love with him the moment their eyes locked across the studio.

“Keith, what are you going to do?” Lance asks as he pulls over and parks by Keith’s building. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t really know what he can do.

Lance huffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest, his feet tapping impatiently on the floor of the car. Usually, there’s always cheery music blasting through the speakers, but tonight, it’s silent and Keith has nowhere to run from the thoughts in his head.

“You love him,” Lance states. “I’ve never seen you happier than you are now. Even when your dad was alive, you were still always so quiet, so reserved. Shiro has brought light back into your life, Keith. Please, don’t shut him out now.”

Keith chuckles, staring down at his hands. There are little marker ink blobs staining his right hand – little reminders of his impromptu drawing session during one of his breaks at work.

“It’s funny, this whole mess. I’ve always struggled with finding people attractive, but now that I’ve fallen in love with a man, he doesn’t feel the same way about me.”

“Stop talking bullshit, Keith. Have you even looked at Shiro? That poor man is the biggest disaster gay in the existence. You’re right after him at the top three.”

Keith attempts to shove Lance, but he only snickers. “Honestly, I’m not surprised, Keith. It’s so you to panic and run after every big show of emotions,” he continues. “I get it it’s the first time you’re in love but holy fuck, if you’re not giving Shiro a chance to reconcile I’m locking you two in a closet.”

Keith shakes his head and unlocks the door. “Maybe _that_ will get me to finally eat his ass.”

“EW KEITH, NO,” Lance shudders, making a face. “I really didn’t need to hear that!”

“See ya, Lance,” Keith sing-songs, closing the door behind him as he quietly laughs at Lance’s mock-disgusted face.

 

The first day of November brings snow along with the icy-cold wind that finds its way into Keith's apartment through the meek, breaking down window frames.

Keith shudders, throwing his warmest blanket over his head in denial of his alarm clock going off. It's not like he has had any good night's rest. Shaking off the feeling, the taste of Shiro's lips has proven to be impossible, and so has been turning over and over again all the scenarios of how today's art class is going to be like. Keith has heard Allura mention that Shiro will be modelling again, and now Keith isn't quite sure how he will manage to sit through the class after what happened yesterday.

He still needs to sketch his homework before the class, so the most of the morning and noon Keith spends on cooking and cleaning so that he has all his chores done and can concentrate on drawing in peace. He turns on some music, humming along the lyrics and time passes quickly as he works on rendering human torso from different angles. The bolts of anxiousness at the impending approach of the art class do not quite go away though but increase in intensity until Keith begins to contemplate if going there is really worth it.

Besides, what is the point? Lance and Allura are happy in their flirting/courting period, and even though they still need a little push to go out on a date officially, they have been going strong on their own for a few weeks now. Keith's sidekick role is no longer in demand. He still can help Lance with art, but everything else is already working itself out on its own.

He sighs, turning over the page in his sketchbook. Those several classes they have spent studying the head have come and passed all too quickly for Keith's likes. He can spend ages drawing portraits, and now that Allura has begun a new section of the body anatomy to study, Keith somewhat regrets it.

His phone goes off with a few messages – texts from Lance and Allura, and he's grateful neither mentions yesterday. Shiro’s probably still busy at the Garrison Academy, and afterwards he'll be spending time with his family. On a whim, Keith agrees to Lance and Allura picking him up before the class. It will cut his time to work on sketches – Allura always arrives earlier at Altean Arts – but the prospect of dragging himself through the chilly Arus is a lot worse than a few rushed drawings. His hoverbike is now out of option with all that snow falling in heavy fluffs from the sky – Keith would just get sick with pneumonia or something even worse from a ride in weather like this. Perhaps it's time to consider saving up for those fancy winter riding leathers Shiro has been ogling the other night, too.

Keith flinches. Tonight will be so much fun.

 

Allura is sharply dressed and determined to squeeze the life out of Keith when she practically jumps out of the Hybrid and tackles Keith into a hug.

“Hey there, Allura,” he murmurs, nodding over her shoulder to Lance. There's something hard to label in his friend's eyes as he watches Keith and Allura greet each other, though the soft smile hidden in the corners of his lips makes Keith grin at them both.

“Are you ready for today?” Allura asks as she finally lets go of Keith and he rolls his shoulders hesitantly.

“Yeah, sure, why wouldn't I be?”

“What happened yesterday—” Allura begins but Keith shakes his head.

“It was nothing. No need to worry about it.”

Allura frowns, her cyan eyes glancing briefly at Lance then returning to glare at Keith. If anything, it makes Keith step back a little at the intensity. He's never seen Allura so annoyed, and never before it has been aimed at him.

“ _No need to worry?!_ Keith, you're my friend, and so is Shiro,” she points a finger at Keith's chest, “so yes, I will worry for you two!”

“Same here,” Lance chirps in. “I don't know how about Shiro, but _my_ idiot of a best friend needs to get his priorities straight. Or gay. Whatever.”

“Lance, what the—”

Allura shuts Keith up with a hard glare and the words die in his throat.

“Keith. I know what happened,” she says, somewhat cute ruffled up in her voluminous pale blue scarf, snowflakes landing on her hair and long eyelashes. “Shiro can be... a bit thick when it comes to love affairs.” Lance snickers at her choice of words and winks at Keith when even he catches up on the innuendo and blushes lightly, though Allura continues like it's exactly what she's meant. “Give him a second chance, Keith. He'll come around. If he won't - I'll personally kick his butt.”

“And this is why I like you so much, Allura,” Lance laughs out. “You always know when to go full offence.”

“Thank you, Lance,” she beams.

“Can we just go?” Keith sighs, frustrated. “One more reminder of yesterday and I'm throwing a hissy fit, Lance style.”

“Oh, I'd like to see you try, Kogane,” Lance sing-songs, puffing his chest and striking a pose at him. Allura hides her giggles in her scarf and Keith pretends to scowl but it’s hard to keep his game up when Lance's silly antics make him want to laugh, if a little bit hysterically.

The trio climb into the car, Keith blowing at his already frozen fingers in the back while Allura claims shotgun and turns up the heating. Lance hums along the song playing through the dynamics, and Keith takes in the sweet, friendly atmosphere that settles between them.

Allura chats casually with Lance as he drives, and Keith half-listens to them, zooming out from time to time as he watches the scenery change, thinking.

Either Lance has talked to Allura or Shiro himself had, but it's still going to be a challenge to face him, to get back into the friendship when for a long while Keith has been suspecting they are a little more than that to each other.

He has had an entire night to think it through.

Yes, he loves Shiro. Yes, he doesn't want to lose him.

Yesterday had been terrifying. Keith thought this was it. He'd fucked up a perfectly fine friendship with his own stupidity and confusing feelings. Now that he has had a night to think on it, tossing and turning fitfully and contemplating calling Shiro more times that he wants to admit, he has come to the realisation that he's let his feelings get in the way of what truly matters to him.

Lance lets out a soft chuckle at something Allura says, and the gentle glance he dares at her is like a revelation, an insight deep into Lance's soul. Allura grows quiet when Lance looks back to the road, her own gaze lingering on his features as if she's memorizing its lines and planes.

 _They_ are the reason behind it all. _They_ are why Keith has agreed to go to the classes he doesn't particularly need, but for Lance – he will do anything for his best friend's happiness.

Nothing else really has been an option. Meeting Shiro, falling in love with him – that isn't a part of the plan. It still has happened but it doesn't mean Keith is willing to betray his friend's trust. Allura already is all frantic about the kiss, and Lance isn't far away from going hard on Shiro again. A conflict like that, when the loyalty of a best friend is stronger than the romantic feelings yet to reach full bloom, can quench whatever fragile Lance and Allura have built together.

Keith can't let that happen. He must set it all right. Talk to Shiro. Apologise. Make sure it doesn't happen again.

 

Allura's studio is light and spacey when the easels and chairs aren't set up yet, and while Keith hooks up his phone to the sound system and finds something easier to listen to, Lance already dashes over to help Allura with preparing the studio for the class. It doesn't look like the two need Keith's help much, so he finally takes a moment to look through the artwork displayed on one of the walls in the studio.

Keith has seen enough of Allura's art to be able to recognise her style even without searching for the artist's signature. She's amazing, pulling off beautiful, vibrant landscapes and often painting galaxies and space phenomena, and at the same time her portraits and full-body studies are just as well-rendered and colourful. Keith loses himself in admiring her work, noting the change in her style throughout the years until his heart skips a beat at the sight of the all too familiar eyes staring back at him from a portrait he has never noticed here before.

He draws Shiro quite differently from Allura. Perhaps it's because he sees him in a different light. Perhaps it's because Allura has known him for a much longer period of time. Keith is just a speck on the length of their friendship, and the Shiro that stares at him from the painting is black-haired and doesn't have the facial scar yet. His eyes tell a different tale, a faraway look that is still kind though sparkles with determination and youth, with the steel of a military man. He's still good, he's still the light and the kindness, but the change in Shiro after the accident must have been drastic if Keith hasn't even recognised him right away.

“Hey Mullet, care to help me with this?” Lance calls from the backroom, and reluctantly, Keith tears his gaze away from the wall of artwork.

“On my way,” he rumbles.

 

By the time the first of the students begin to arrive, Keith has been third-wheeling for nearly an hour. At least he has finished his sketches, and admired the view outside the studio's windows, all the while listening to Allura and Lance chat away and flirt shamelessly right in front of his sketchbook. He has nearly sent a few bored texts to Shiro but has caught himself on time. It would be awkward. So very, very awkward.

At least the music still playing softly through the speakers helps Keith to calm, and by the start of the lecture, with Lance flipping through his sketchpad with a toothy grin on his face, Keith believes himself to be ready to face Shiro.

And he's right.

Shiro is stunning and handsome amongst the few other models present for today's session, and Kuron trails behind, glancing curiously around the studio. Allura takes the lead in taking care of Kuron while the models are delegated to their usual spot for posing, and Shiro's youngest brother ends up in Lance's and Keith's company while the oldest Shirogane flushes bright red at the boom of compliments from their female coursemates.

“Is this always happening?” Kuron asks, fighting back the laughter at the sight of topless Shiro trying to hide behind the rest of their equally half-dressed models.

“Every freakin' time,” Lance replies, tapping his pencil against the board. “It’s like Shiro's fan club or something.”

“Well, he agreed to pose a long time ago,” Allura adds, hands on her hips as her evaluating gaze scrutinizes the models and their poses. “He’s always keeping his promises. There’s nowhere to run now.”

“Should I be worried for my brother?” Kuron mumbles under his breath but Allura only smiles sweetly at him and winks, dashing off to one of her students.

 It's supposed to be a session on drawing the front view of the trunk, and Keith is quite amazed at the variety of body types Allura has made sure to include into the class. Shiro has your stereotypical Greek god body type, yet he's an amputee covered in scars. Zethrid is a woman with beautiful strong features, taller and bulkier and more muscular than Shiro, yet the sweet, long-haired Ezor -- who keeps glancing at her every other minute -- is curvy and lean. Keith chuckles when he notices Hunk, a few minutes late and grinning apologetically, though Keith can't wait to draw him, cute and chubby, though still unmistakably strong.

“Alright, students, you know the drill,” Allura's voice rings through the air and Lance sits up, eyes on her. “You have four models and three hours, take your time to sketch but keep your focus on the anatomy. Shade where necessary but don't overdo it, and be considerate of the limited time you have tonight. Good luck!”

 

“Wow, this really looks fun,” Kuron says after a while. He's sitting together with Keith and watches him sketch Hunk. They chat from time to time with him, but the other students keep hissing at Hunk since he’s unable to keep still for too long – he likes to gesture a lot when talking and make faces to go along with it.

“Do you draw, Kuron?” Keith asks, working on Hunk's belly.

“Nah,” he says, fixing the loose bun he has pulled his hair into a few moments ago. Keith can't quite look away from his purple forelock. “I do need to draw sometimes in my notebooks for college, but it's all schematic and flat out horrible. I always envied people who can draw, though.”

“Well, that makes the two of us,” Hunk laughs out and immediately gets one of the artists groan in annoyance.

Keith is still staring at the purple locks in Kuron’s hair and finally, he snaps and asks, pointing at it, “Did you watch _Banana Fish_ recently or I’m totally imagining things right now?”

Kuron blinks, then his cheeks colour ever so slightly as he suddenly looks so sheepish Keith has to stop whatever he has been doing and witness that pure innocence properly. “You’re literally the first person to catch on that.”

“Shorter Wong, right?”

“My fave. I knew it would happen to him but I still wasn’t ready and I wanted to give him some sort of tribute and—“

“Kuron, you’re rambling,” Keith laughs, open and merry for the first time in what feels like years to him. He skips through the pages of his sketchbook. Even if it’s relatively new, there are already enough doodles in here to fill out a third. “Here, have a look at this.”

He pushes the sketchbook closer to Kuron, and the young man lets out a soft whine at the sight of Keith’s multiple studies of Shorter, an entire page filled with portraits of him.

“Wow, Keith! Those are so nice!” he gasps, pulling it closer to have a better look. “I absolutely love your style!”

Keith chuckles and lets Kuron flip through the rest of the sketchbook before he claims it back and continues to sketch. He dares to glance at Shiro, though his face falls at the sight of his scars. It's a map of suffering all over his body.

Kuron follows Keith's stare and says quietly, “It’s a very brave thing for Shiro to be out exposed like that for everyone.”

“What do you mean?”

“After the- after the accident,” Kuron has to force the words out, as if they hurt his throat and lungs and mouth to form, “he was in a really bad shape. Not just because of the arm and the broken bones and, eventually, PTSD. It was like... a part of him was gone. Self-esteem. Self-worth. Confidence. It has taken a full year for Ryou, Allura and me to convince him to wear a t-shirt, let alone to go to the beach.”

“I- I didn't know that,” Keith whispers, his pencil hovering over the page. “I suspected, after the first time he modelled, but...”

“It’s alright, Keith,” Kuron smiles, searching his eyes. “I imagine Shiro isn't very fond of sharing his “sappy story”. Still, it's good to see him fight it.”

“Yeah,” Keith murmurs, glancing at Shiro and catching his eyes on him, too. “It’s good.”

 

The class goes a lot better than Keith has been expecting it to. Kuron is a sunshine, managing to be everywhere and see everything, a spring of endless energy as everything is new and beautiful and exciting to him. He often claims Allura’s and Shiro’s attention, so during the few breaks they get, Lance and Keith just sit back and chat, often joined by Hunk, who is more than tired and hungry from all the sitting in the same position for hours on.

Keith has left sketching Shiro for the last – it seems to be a recurring theme with him these days – but when he does find a good spot to draw him, he’s joined by Lance. It’s easier together with him and a few other students, too.

Keith sketches out Shiro’s body effortlessly, the image of it solidified in his memory since the first time they’ve met, though today he makes an effort to make a map of Shiro’s scar tissue, tracing the pale pink marks with his pencil relentlessly, until the likeness makes the passing-by Kuron stop and stare, tilting his head this way and that and compare.

“Huh,” he says, glancing at Shiro then back down at Keith’s sketch. “Huh-uh.”

He pats Keith on the shoulder and leaves, Lance cackling quietly into his sketchpad, until even Shiro sighs and mumbles something under his breath.

“It always be like this, huh?” Lance manages, his brow quirked mischievously at Shiro.

“I’m—I should stop being so surprised every time but I can’t quite.”

Shiro glances at Keith, hesitantly, as if offering a truce. He’s damn gorgeous, and Keith lets himself get lost in the broad, strong planes of his body, eyes stroking the firm muscle beneath Shiro’s equally beautiful skin until Keith catches himself and looks down on his sketch.

Vaguely, he’s aware of Lance huffing and muttering a curse under his breath, but honestly – what else Keith can do? He’s weak. Weaker still before Shiro.

He finishes sketching him out quietly but remains sitting together with Lance and helping him. His friend’s skill has improved significantly over the last few months – at this pace, Lance’s improvement will be major by the end of the course. There’s still a question if Lance is capable of pulling off a medium grander than graphite, and Keith still hasn’t had his chance to catch up with Lance on it.

As if reading Keith’s thoughts, one of their coursemates brings up the approach of January – the middle of the month is their first deadline on the final task for this course. Allura sets off to explain in more detail what is required for the deadline, and how, yes, the course indeed will continue with new subjects while the students can easily start working on their pieces at any time they wish, as long as by mid-January there is at least a sketch of the piece and a finished painting by the end of February.

She does, however, mention that the strain and intensity of the program isn’t suited for everyone, and students can opt-out of participating in the final art test entirely, though they will lose a chance to have their work displayed at Altean Art’s gallery, as well as their recommendation letter.

Lance pouts, raising his hand like a schoolboy and asking a few questions about just how big the piece is supposed to be, but Allura only smiles at him.

“It’s entirely up to you. You have complete creative freedom to do the painting in whatever scale you want, as long as it has a human figure in it and is a finished piece.”

“Yes, but what, exactly, are we supposed to draw?” Lance insists.

“Anything you want, Lance.”

“Can I draw you?”

Allura startles, her eyes wide and cheeks flushed, until with just a fraction of a waver in her voice, she says that he may.

“Oh my fucking god,” Keith blurts out, covering his mouth with his free hand. He definitely hasn’t been expecting _that_. He dares to glance at Shiro again, and he’s wide-eyed and shocked, too, nearly falling off of the small stool he’s sitting on.

“That’s—That’s new? Also, smooth,” Shiro manages, silly smile on his lips. Lance is oblivious to their reaction, too busy bathing in Allura’s blessing to paint her. Knowing Lance and his inability to draw legs, Allura is going to make an appearance as a mermaid, though this is hardly what matters in comparison to Lance’s smitten look and Allura’s flushed cheeks.

The bashfulness doesn’t stop Allura from going hard on evaluating everyone’s work, and the models – Ezor in particular – have the time of their lives looking through the drawings. Keith gets his load of praise, though he shies away from the compliments and contemplates leaving early.

 Just grabbing his backpack and sneaking through behind the easels to the door while everyone else is distracted – how hard can it possibly be?

Already closing the door behind himself, Keith realises that he has left his phone still hooked up to the sound system. Taking a moment to groan frustratedly, Keith turns back, trying to appear as unnoticeable as possible as he sneaks behind Zethrid and Ezor and catches a few lines they share that make his ears burn bright red.

“This art studio is fucking cursed,” he mumbles to himself, wondering at all the sex in the air, and finally reaches his phone. Keith tuts at the drop of the battery charge and unhooks the gadget. He does something wrong again, and the volume of the speakers shots up nearly to the ear-drum-popping loudness.

“Shit--”

“KEITH, CAN YOU PLEASE STOP DOING THAT,” Lance yells over the music and Keith straightens up, batting his lashes innocently as slowly he backs away. He can see Shiro noticing him from the other end of the room and saying a few words to Kuron, then starting to make his way to Keith. It sends his heart and thoughts racing.

“Sorry?”

Keith turns sharply on his heels, praying to whoever or whatever might listen that for once in his life he can get away with this, but once outside, walking quickly down the hallway, he hears Shiro’s voice calling out his name.

Keith’s strides slow down until stopping completely. Shiro catches up with him quickly, running the rest of the distance that has been separating them.

“Keith,” Shiro repeats, in a way of a greeting, in a way of grounding them both with the inevitability of the talk Keith knows they must have though he’s willing to veer from but concedes to stay after one look at Shiro’s pleading face.

“Can we talk?” Shiro asks, voice quiet and soft, as if Keith is a wild beast he’s afraid to scare away. Maybe he truly is, but whatever modicum of bravery there is left in Keith – he gives it all to Shiro.

“Alright, let’s talk.”

Shiro beams, inviting Keith to follow.

He clearly knows the building a lot better than Keith. Shiro leads him to a little alcove further down the hall, with from floor-to-ceiling windows that allow a stunning view of the late-evening Arus. Keith shifts his weight from one leg to the other, looking anywhere but at Shiro.

Last time he failed to do that while standing in the close proximity to the man didn’t go so well. He’d rather not to repeat that.

“About yesterday—“ after a long silence, Shiro begins, but Keith is all frantic and he cuts him off.

“I’m sorry. As I’ve said, it was a mistake, it won’t happen again.”

Shiro takes a breath sharply, and his voice is pained when he speaks. “Why are you calling it a mistake?”

Keith frowns, still avoiding looking at him. He tries to watch the lights of the cars down below but it’s difficult to focus, difficult to pick out one and follow it. His grip on the straps of his backpack is too strong, and his hands remind him in a burst of pain of all the hours he has worked recently.

“What else was it?” Keith manages. “I should’ve known my place but I guess I was out of my head with all those overtime hours.”

Shiro’s lips part, words ready to slip, but Keith looks him in the eye and Shiro makes a step back, his brows knit together at whatever he sees in Keith’s stare.

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean—Don’t you get it? Don’t you remember what you and I have agreed upon? This,” Keith gestures back at the doors of Allura’s studio, “this was never about me or you or anyone else but Lance and Allura. The whole reason why I am here is to make sure Lance is happy and comfortable and doesn’t fuck up his chances with winning Allura’s heart. That was literally it.”

Shiro straightens up, shoulders back and chin raised high. Keith follows the motion, unable to tear his gaze away even if he well knows he has pissed Shiro off so very, very much.

“ _That was it?_ Keith—So none of what happened means anything to you?” Shiro bites back with steel in his voice. “Nothing at all? It was just a pretend to you?”

“It wasn’t a _pretend_. It wasn’t a _priority_. So I apologize for what happened yesterday, Shiro,” Keith says, surprised at how cold he sounds. “I’m sorry I’ve let myself behave this way. I should focus on being Lance’s friend. He needs me now more than ever.”

“Do you—“ Shiro’s face falls as he cuts himself off, and he makes another step back, head hanging low as he stares at the tips of his combat boots. He is silent for a long while, his cheeks flushed as he chews on his bottom lip. Keith waits patiently. He has nothing else to say, anyway. The _I love you_ he’s thought he’s going to burst with is stuck low in his throat, clawing at his chest.

“I respect your choice, Keith,” Shiro finally speaks, his eyes gleaming suspiciously in the dim lighting. “I’m sorry, too.”

“Thanks.”

Keith kicks at the wooden floor, unable to force his lungs to take enough oxygen to make his head stop spinning, to make the ground stop slipping from beneath his feet.

“Can we at least still be friends?” Shiro asks, still so pained it hurts, it hurts so fucking much.

Keith looks at him, shaking, and nods. “Yeah, sure.”

“Okay.”

It still leaves a gaping hole in Keith’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me @ [tumblr](https://voidslantern.tumblr.com) or @ [ pillowfort](https://pillowfort.io/voidslantern) or @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/voidslantern) in case tumblr does indeed die on us.  
> i will be focusing on a different fic till the holidays (unless i catch so much writing mojo i will be able to handle two stories at the same time), so expect a approx. 10k story from me soon, i guess?


	13. i'll be your light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning of s8 mentions. if you haven't seen it you're truly blessed.  
> otherwise, hello, Lance POV!

Maybe waking up in a heap together with your friends is supposed to be fun and nice and cute but Lance has a very sharp elbow in his face and there's definitely way too much weight on him so he can't even breathe properly. Not to mention the weirdest nightmare he's ever had in his life, along with the punishment in form of a hangover headache crushing Lance's head in a vice grip.

He groans, trying to shake off the residual ashy aftertaste from his nightmare but he can't quite so he opts to carefully wiggle his way to freedom, hoping to win himself some time to gather himself before his friends wake up, maybe to snatch an Aspirin, and ends up freezing the moment he sees Allura's peaceful face inches away from his.

Tears prickle Lance's eyes and the images from his nightmare flash through his memory.

Allura.

Tentatively, he reaches his fingers to brush a loose lock of snow white hair out of her face and she shifts in her sleep, cuddling closer into Lance's side.

_I love you, Allura. I can't stand the world without you in it._

Lance's usually jovial heart aches at the remembrance of the gaping hole left in him by Allura's sacrifice, let alone by his own inaction, inability to prevent her death.

And Keith?

Lance turns his head to stare at his brother of a best friend, drooling happily into the blanket all three are sleeping on, their pillow fort long since crumpled in a sad heap over them. Well, Lance has never been particularly good at building forts – his sister Veronica has always been the family expert in this field – and what Keith, Allura, and he had come up with while being way more than just tipsy hadn't survived even those few hours they wanted to spend watching Netflix together sitting in it and getting wasted on whatever alcohol there was in Lance's apartment.

The Keith in Lance's dream had been even lonelier than the one sleeping with his hair a tangled mess. His limbs' angles are too sharp and pointy for Lance's likes since he is Keith's pillow right now and takes the brunt of it, shielding Allura.

Losing Allura and seeing Keith miserable and heartbroken are ones of Lance's worst fears, both of which came true in that dream. Lance shudders at the thought.

None of it will come to pass if Lance has a say in this. Not on his watch. Not in this reality.

Yeah, alright, maybe something went wrong between Shiro and Keith a few days ago but it's a minor hiccup they are bound to move on from. If anything, Lance is always here to tease and poke and get them to do what he needs, what _they_ need.

In love, there are no geniuses, after all.

Lance sighs, shaking his head a little as he watches Keith's chest rise and fall with every breath he makes.

The Shiro and Keith in that dream were as much of soulmates as the real ones are. They are meant to explore the world together, make it a brighter, better place. It made no sense for Shiro to suddenly pick a rando and let him drag Shiro to the altar. No one even knew the dude's name. Even Shiro didn't.

Dream Keith's heart, just as golden and beautiful and fragile as his actual friend's, was shattered and the heartbreak leaked into Keith's kind, forced smiles no matter how much he tried to drown himself in work. Lance knows. He stayed friends with Keith in that dream, or at least he likes to think they were that to each other – Keith seemed to treat everyone a little as if they were strangers to him and not his found family.

He was a hollow, broken reflection of the real Keith. Shiro, too, wasn’t really himself. Lance looks up to the man, inspired by his never-resting drive and strength. To witness him give up on his dream and become a housewife? That’s about as ridiculous and cruel as to suggest that Allura would ever give up on her life.

Why would he ever dream up something like this? It hurts.

Lance huffs, blinking away tears from his eyes when Keith shuffles, turning his head to face Lance. Finally, Keith's sharp elbow no longer threatens to impale him, though Lance groans in pain when Keith as good as kicks him with his equally sharp knee.

Allura steers at the sound, one cyan eye popping open. “What was that?” she murmurs, yawning sleepily and stretching. Lance's heart skips a beat when Allura curls into him, hand thrown over his chest.

“Keith kicked me in his sleep,” Lance manages but Allura picks up on the waver in his voice anyway.

“Are you—crying?”

Allura peeks carefully into Lance's face and his lips curl into a silly, forced smile, all the while the sight of her, ruffled from sleep and definitely hungover, overwhelms him with the realisation of just how much he had lost in that dream.

Tears are pretty much out of his control now.

“Lance?” Allura freaks out, sitting up as Lance tries to wipe the moisture away from his face but fails, her gentle fingers curling over Lance's wrists as she guides him to look at her. There's something deep and hurting in her eyes, a brief flash of longing, and she leans closer, her slender fingers wiping away Lance's tears as he tries not to wake Keith up with his sobs.

It's still fairly early. Keith needs to rest, even if he pretends all is fine and he's up for getting wasted right after a long art class and even a longer day before that. When was the last time he had a proper day off, anyway?

Whatever happened yesterday when Keith sneaked out of the studio and Shiro followed – it had clearly unsettled Keith enough to make him yearn a distraction. Lance is glad that Keith hasn't shut him out this time, and even let Allura close as the trio decided to celebrate the first snowfall together. Well, it was Lance who called it that. For his friend it clearly had been just a chance to consume as much of alcohol as possible until Lance could hardly recognise him. Keith had gone through all stages of alcohol-induced transformation from anger to happy babbling to excited shenanigans in the middle of the night and then to peaceful slumbering once Keith had passed out in the middle of their drinking game.

There is no doubt in the simple truth that Keith is strong. Stronger than Lance ever dreams to be. And yet there's so much vulnerability in Keith when Shiro is concerned, as if that gentle golden heart of Keith's is a fragile hummingbird in Shiro's hands, all his strength shifted into gentleness and hope and, undoubtedly, love. All is still laced in the essence of Keith, however, in his stubbornness and attitude and love of art, though it is Shiro who brings joy and happiness into the empty spaces left in Keith's life.

Lance knows Shiro would never hurt Keith, not intentionally, at least. Their whole situation right now is just two pining idiots not knowing what to do with their feelings. It doesn't stop worry from twisting Lance's guts every time Keith and Shiro aren't happy, aren't together weaving their lives and souls into something glorious, beautiful, eternal.

Lance’s thoughts skitter all over, dull little ideas and impressions and worry for his friends tearing at him and the sight of Allura—

It’s too much and yet Lance can’t stop himself from spiralling somewhere deep and cold.

Allura's cyan eyes are lined with silver now, too, as she breathlessly begs Lance to calm down, whispering reassurances that bit by bit return him confidence that that reality was nothing but a product of his alcohol-poisoned mind. Allura is alive, whole, beautiful, right in front of him, and Keith has a long and loving relationship with Shiro ahead of him. _That_ is the reality Lance prefers over any other.

He has to gather himself before he can speak.

“Allura—” Lance chokes out quietly not to wake Keith. “I’ve had the worst dream-“

She presses her forehead to Lance’s, palms cupping his jaw. “Let it go, Lance. It's just a bad dream.”

His fingers tangle in Allura's long white looks as he presses his forehead harder into hers, tears still swelling beneath his lashes.

“Allura.”

How can he convey what he feels when he always stumbles to find the right words and ends up making a fool of himself? How does he explain that there's no point in the universe without Allura?

He wants to hug her but Keith finally stirs and they jerk apart, Allura's cheeks just a little flushed as Keith blinks, rubbing sleepily at his eyes.

“What year is this?” Keith groans, and Lance quickly sits up, wiping his tear-stained face as Allura sweeps in to claim Keith's attention and makes some lame jokes to get him distracted.

Lance can't be more thankful, and Allura's support is enough to make him steel himself and face Keith with a wide grin and a silly remark that immediately gets a reaction out of him, until all three end up recalling yesterday's night and how tipsy they've got from playing their drinking game.

“Tipsy?” Lance laughs. “Keith, you were flat out drunk, buddy. I've never seen you be such a mess as yesterday.”

Keith grunts something non-committal and rolls over, getting up and swaying a little on his feet as he makes a beeline to the bathroom.

Allura glances at Lance, same worried line between her brows but Lance smiles, mouthing a thank-you when Keith returns, hair dripping water all over and his face wet, though his eyes are not glassy at all, that familiar sharp gleam once again shining at the world.

“Ya know, Mullet, you could've just taken a shower,” Lance sing-songs but Keith shrugs.

“I hate your shower gel. It stinks like some flower-obsessed, crazy widow's garden. With just a touch of cat piss.”

“Hey, it's not that bad!”

Keith levels him with a calculating look, hands crossed in front of him. “Yeah, it might also be just you, Lance.”

“That’s—the worst betrayal—Keith, how could you—” Lance plays the victim easily, his exaggerated words and expression finally making Keith's lips turn upwards.

Allura laughs, crystalline and bright. “There you go. Good morning, Keith!”

He only rolls his eyes, padding over to seat at the sofa while Lance and Allura scramble to their feet and with a single glance between them, set off to attack Keith with pillows they used in building the fort.

The entire apartment complex shudders with their yelling, but Lance grins and laughs when he manages to land a blow to Keith's head and his friend roars, Allura yelping as she gets out of Keith's way as he goes in for revenge.

It ends up as a chase around the entire living room but at least it gets their blood running and Keith's victorious grin and Allura's laughter are enough to dispel Lance's fear and with a happy sigh he lands on the sofa, rubbing at his head that has been so mercilessly attacked by Keith.

“I could say _that will teach you_ , Lance,” Keith plops onto the sofa to Lance's right while Allura sits gracefully down to his left, “but I know that it really won't.”

Lance shoots him a grin. “Well at least you've knocked my hangover right out of my head.”

“It was your brain, obviously,” Keith grins back, prompting Lance throw one of the decorative cushions at him that has been resting peacefully on the sofa before though he fails to hit his target. The pillow misses Keith in a wide arc that ends with impact against one of the posters hanging on the wall and Allura rolls her eyes as it falls with a sad thud on the floor and Keith snickers.

“And here I thought you two can behave normally at least in the morning. Clearly, I was delusional.”

“We can behave!” Lance pouts and Keith shakes his head a no, his shoulders trembling slightly with his suppressed laughter. Allura doesn't look particularly impressed and Lance gives up, falling back into the sofa.

He feels strange, not just because of the hangover that still, in fact, claws at his senses, making him dizzy and uncomfortable, his thoughts a mess defeated by the dull pain right behind his eyes. The dream doesn't quite leave him be, that same ashy aftertaste still drags between his teeth.

The urge to go brush his teeth and rinse his mouth several times is almost unbearably strong though it is Keith who levels Lance with a hard glare before nudging him gently with his foot.

“Hey Sharpshooter, what's wrong with you today?”

Allura stills, glancing worriedly between them though when Lance denies everything with a bit too much of zeal, she sighs.

“It could make you feel better if you'd talk about it, Lance.”

He bites his lip, slightly torn by the concern in both of his friends' eyes, the confusion in Keith's making Lance brace before the inevitable confrontation. He just knows neither Keith nor Allura will let him get away with it.

“I'm sorry,” he murmurs. “I just had the weirdest dream. It's nothing, really.”

Allura's slender fingers curl around Lance's forearm, squeezing gently. “You woke up shaken and in tears—”

“What?” Keith immediately sits up properly, eyes sharp as he searches Lance's face with a bit more attention than before, his frown deepening at whatever he sees there.

“It hardly qualifies as “nothing”, Lance. It clearly has left you hurting,” Allura continues, expression soft. She glances at Keith, their gazes meeting, equal in worry, and Lance's heart pangs at the sight of her eyes on him again. “We’re here to listen-”

“If you feel like sharing it,” Keith finishes.

Lance sighs for what feels like a millionth time this morning and briefly contemplates not to tell them a single thing just to spare them the stress, but those nightmarish visions stand sharply before his eyes, seeping at his strength. It hurts to hold them in.

So he tells them. Quietly, at first, his memories fading somewhat but he tells all that he remembers, all the backstory so that the final moments of the dream would make sense.

Allura sits quietly by Lance's side, still holding his hand in hers, and her warm touch grounds him, gives him strength to voice those fears.

Keith's expression is shuttered, though, and only a sharp hiss of an inhale at the descriptions of the relationship between him and Shiro betrays how shaken he is, too. Lance isn't even at the worst part yet, and he dreads it even more so now that Keith's and Allura’s reactions are evident.

By the time Lance finally begins to describe Allura's sacrifice and the aftermath of it, mentioning the bullshit of their fates with disgust in his voice – he hardly recognises it anyway –tears cloud his vision once again. The words rasp in his throat but he still forces them out, head hanging low. It takes Keith gripping Lance's other hand tightly to make him raise his gaze at his friends and his breath hitches at the sight of them.

Allura is crying quietly, though her eyes glow with something hard as steel. Keith is sad, contemplative even, though he offers a reassuring curl of his lips to Lance anyway.

The two of them.

The two closest people to him in the entire world.

There’s also his sister, Veronica, but she's all the way back at Cuba now and they haven't seen each other in over a year, even if they communicate regularly. Lance misses her a lot, but... Keith and Allura are here. Now. Their own little family. Add Shiro and it's all perfect. A harmony. Add the rest of their gang and they might as well take on the entire world.

Lance can face anything together with them like that.

Even those bad dreams.

Keith is the first one to break the stunned silence once Lance finishes his story. He breaks it with a curse, obscene enough to make Lance bristle that there's a lady present, but Allura adds an equally obscene phrase and Lance straight out gapes, jaw slack, at witnessing those curses escape from her lips.

“Allura, what the—”

She cuts him off with a sharp snarl. “That dream is complete _bullshit_. I'd never give up. Not on my life, not on the world, not on _any of you._ ”

Allura's grip tightens for a second but then relaxes as she makes a deep breath.

Keith shakes his head. “And Lance, you as a farmer? That's fucking racist, buddy.”

“Yes, exactly!” There's fire in Allura's eyes, steely yet scorching. “Also, Shiro would never give up on his dreams, too, and he's not the type to marry someone he doesn't have a deep connection to.” She glances at Keith as she says that. “He would never give up on those dear to him. He would never give up on a friendship, especially if it means the world to him.”

Keith looks at her, taking in the words. Lance silently prays that he'd actually listen, for once in his life.

It seems Keith fights for getting each word out but his voice is assured, confident, when he confesses that he would stay with the ones he loves rather than continuing to drag through the rest of his existence in loneliness.

“You were good, Keith,” Lance murmurs. “You were saving people. Helping them. Helping to rebuild.”

Keith is silent for a beat. “I guess it was my way of fixing the void inside, wasn't it?”

Allura mutters something under her breath when Lance agrees with his best friend. Her voice thrills through the morning air.

“Enough!”

Keith as good as jumps up at her outburst, but Allura has fire in her eyes.

“Enough of being sad, all of us! Enough of mourning all the what-ifs and could-have-beens! There’s only one thing you can possibly learn from this nightmare,” she says. “ _Fight for what you love.”_

Lance looks at her and his whole being reverberates at the truth ringing between them, bouncing from Allura to Keith to Lance and back to Allura.

“It's—one hell of an alcohol delirium dream, Lance,” Keith says, falling back into the sofa, his whole body still stiff and taunt in that very Keith way that vaguely makes Lance want to describe Keith as a coiled spring, ready to snap.

It would've been so nice to have Shiro together with them yesterday and now, Lance thinks, watching restlessness eat away at his best friend. Shiro is the only one who can anchor Keith, refocus his energy. Make him happy and relaxed.

Whatever it is, whatever has happened between them that made that kiss expand into this awkward stage of heartbroken, pining _idiocy_ – Lance wonders if there's anything he can do to help, to move them past this point.

Lance sighs, catching Allura's hand and weaving their fingers together absentmindedly. Allura welcomes the touch, her free hand coming to rest above Lance's palm as he holds her. Once again, Lance marvels at how good it feels to hold her like this, if it makes her feel better, too.

Keith smiles at the sight.

“Thank you,” Lance says earnestly, a tight lump in his throat. “It really is some kind of obscene bullshit my brain cooked up as a punishment for all that beer yesterday.”

“Maybe some was spoiled because yeah. Way too much bullshit so early in the morning,” Keith says, rubbing at his eyes. His hair has long since dried and now curls at the ends. Lance wants to tease him about that but doesn't have the energy, and Allura draws his attention anyway, murmuring little encouragements and reassurances to him and Lance sighs, content and left with a fraction lighter heart. Allura watches him intently, her large cyan eyes studying Lance's face and he can't help but to get lost in her beauty.

With white hair a wild mess, her yesterday’s mascara smudged a little, light circles beneath her eyes. It makes the urge to draw her itch pleasantly at the back of Lance's mind.

“Wow,” he gasps out and she looks down at their joined hands almost bashfully. Lance can hear Keith's light chuckle and he definitely nudges him with his foot again.

Lance really wants to flip his friend off just for sport and he's about to say as much when Allura's phone goes off with a call and she scrambles to get it.

Lance pouts at the loss of the contact but it's Keith's shit-eating grin that finally makes him snap and he hisses at his friend. It's not long until they go off into their usual banter, though Allura returns to the sofa with a bright grin, holding her phone before her as she squeezes in between Lance and Keith and Kuron greets them happily from the screen.

“Oh, hey there,” Lance beams, waving at Kuron as Keith blinks, startled, at the sight of Shiro's youngest brother.

“Hey, Lance! Keith!” Kuron waves back. “I didn't know you all were hanging out together!”

“Well, after the class Keith came up with a proposal to play a drinking game-“ Allura explains, grinning mischievously at Keith, “and Lance and I just couldn't let him do all the drinking on his own.”

“We got wasted, basically,” Lance concludes, grinning. Keith looks like he's either about to facepalm or wouldn't mind to get swallowed up by the floor. Whatever it is about Kuron, it really makes all the bad boy in Keith disappear. It's embarrassing.

“Keith, get a grip,” Lance shouts and Keith glares, crossing his arms in front of him. Allura makes a face at the sight of them ready to go off into teasing each other again and Kuron is giggling until finally she asks if there's anything in particular Kuron needs.

“Oh, well,” Kuron looks almost sheepish as he glances behind himself. As the young man moves, Lance catches a glimpse of a nice looking room and there's definitely some space chart posters decorating its walls. “Shiro has to teach a few classes today and since the Academy allows instructors to invite small groups of visitors to, you know, promote the Garrison and all that posh pish...”

“Ah, I see.” There is a knowing little smile tucked into the corners of Allura's mouth. “You need a rescue?”

“Um—More of a company?” Kuron murmurs and honestly, that boy should be out there modelling. He's cuter than Lance McClain himself.

Though the idea of finally getting inside the GA and the prospect of possibly fixing some things between his dumbass best friend and his crush definitely catches Lance’s attention and he doesn’t hesitate to act on it.

“Well, sign Keith and me up!” Lance grins.

“What?!”

“Aw c'mon, Keith, don't you want to see the interiors of the Garrison Academy?”

“I’ve already been there with my dad when I was a kid,” Keith points out, frowning.

“It’s been years, Mullet.”

“Keith, think of all the technological advancement the Garrison has obtained in the past years—“ Allura reasons but Keith remains sceptical – which only prompts Kuron to panic and double his efforts.

“Please, Keith, I promise it will be fun!” Kuron pleads with the cutest pout ever that makes Allura aw and nudge Keith lightly.

“Yeah, Kuron, strike those puppy eyes!” Lance hoots and Kuron has to fight back laughter before he manages to do just that. “Yeah, work it, baby!”

“Lance!” Allura laughs, nudging him lightly, too, when he gets too loud but he still cackles, hiding his face in Allura's curls.

“Don't mind Lance, Kuron,” Keith says, absolutely unimpressed. “And yeah, okay, we'll go.”

“Yay!” Lance hoots again, throwing his fists up in victory.

Their video conference is loud enough to attract Shiro's attention and they can hear a brief exchange in Japanese off-screen between the brothers. Keith goes tense just a fraction when Shiro's curious face appears on the screen next to Kuron's, and Lance's greetings are the loudest. They talk a little about Kuron's offer to come over to the Academy, until they all realise several things.

Firstly, Allura needs to drop by at her work before she can join them, so Lance braces himself for a few hours without her. Secondly, Shiro is beyond honoured to have so many guests, yet he still reminds them that they will be under his responsibility and any screw ups will be on him.

“So don't touch anything you're not meant to,” Shiro instructs, looking specifically at Lance.

“Yeah, okay,” he shrugs, then balks at the sight of everyone staring at him. “What?”

“Do you promise to behave?” Keith asks.

“I’m a paragon of perfect manners—”

“Lance.”

“Fine, fine, I promise.”

“Perfect!” Kuron beams again, clearly relieved. “We’ll pick you gang up in an hour?”

“Allura?”

“I’ll take a taxi once I'm done at Altean Arts.”

“You really need a car,” Keith comments and Allura sighs in agreement.

“Yeah, I know. I just can't choose one.”

“For the past five years—“ Shiro sing-songs and Allura glares at his teasing face and tone.

“Takashi Shirogane, be thankful you’re on the other end of Arus right now.”

"I won't stop until you buy a car, you know that."

Allura opens her mouth to say something in reply but Shiro's quirked brows and an awaiting grin make her deflate in defeat. She still points an accusing finger at Shiro that clearly promises a retaliation.

“I love you too, Allura,” he laughs, blowing her a kiss as an answer to her challenge.

 

* * *

 

It might have been nice to have Allura go together with them to the Garrison Academy, but it’s pure luck Lance is able to go, too – usually he works on Fridays, though today’s shift has been moved to Saturday. Lance isn’t particularly thrilled by that, nor by the cut hours since the bank works only till two on Saturdays.

Allura has had quickly disappeared into her own apartment once Kuron and she have finished talking, leaving Lance and Keith to finally start their morning while she herself prepares for work.

At least he gets to spend some time with Keith, and his hangover is dissolving slowly. Keith, on the other hand, is grumpy even though he has finally agreed to shower and grab one of Lance’s spare shirts, and now he’s content to brood and nurse a headache and a travel mug of coffee as the two friends wait for Shiro and Kuron outside of Lance’s apartment complex.

There’s so much snow it hardly feels like November and Lance can’t help but grin at the prospect of snowball fights and building snowmen but Keith doesn’t seem to share his excitement.

Lance looks at Keith’s pout exactly for two seconds before he nudges him with his elbow.

“Okay, we may have drunk way too much yesterday so I can forgive your broody face but aren’t you happy to see Shiro and Kuron again?”

Keith tears his gaze away from a point somewhere in the distance he’s been staring at for the past few minutes and only manages a quick glance at Lance before he once again steps back into whatever the world he is in right now. If anything, Lance really doesn’t like it.

He nudges him again and Keith finally sighs, replying in a tired voice. “Of course I'm happy to see them, Lance.”

“Then why the long face?”

“I’m-- I'm actually still thinking about that nightmare of yours and what Allura's said.”

“Oh. Any good thoughts?”

“Well...” Keith sighs, his free hand coming up to run through his hair. That mullet really needs a trim. “I don't know. Not yet.”

“A little slow, are we?” Lance teases, earning an eye roll from Keith.

“Still faster than you, _Sharpshooter._ What kind of a nickname is that, anyway?”

“The kind I chose for myself,” Lance says completely serious, hand clasped over his chest. “It’s who I am, Keith.”

There’s a taxi approaching them and Lance already can see a very happy Kuron waving at them from the front seat, his brother talking over the phone in the back. Keith smirks at Lance as the car stops in front of them and Kuron lowers the window and greets them.

“At least you're no longer calling yourself a _tailor_.”

“Oh, you still remember this old gem? Hi, Shiro! Hi, Kuron!”

The boys climb into the taxi and Lance ends up squeezed between Shiro and Keith, and the taxi turns, heading to the main road that will take them all the way to Arus' outskirts and to the Garrison Academy located there.

“That nickname is hard to forget. You were repeatedly calling yourself that through the entirety of the last school year.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Kuron asks, turning in his seat. Shiro has quickly finished up his call with a little frustrated sigh and now is glancing curiously between them.

“Lance’s self-imposed nicknames,” Keith elaborates, settling more comfortably in his seat at the expense of Lance's free space so he ends up having to wrestle both him and Shiro to be able to sit with any comfort at all.

“You’re picking your own nicknames?” Kuron asks again, eyeing Lance with wonder. Time to teach this kid some wisdom.

“Exactly that. I prefer to be the one to choose my own destiny.”

“Sharpshooter is not a destiny.”

“And calling your M&M character “Thunderstorm Darkness” is hardly an achievement either, Keith.”

“You—"

Kuron covers his mouth, listening to Lance and Keith bicker; even their driver peeks at the two from the back view mirror. After a few moments of enduring it, Shiro cuts in with a joke that prompts Keith to shut up and fall back into his seat and Lance hoots victoriously again.

“This will be a long day,” Shiro mutters and Kuron laughs out loud.

“At least it will be fun, right?”

***

look at this cute fanart by [Dami](https://eternallyconfusedkid.tumblr.com/)!!

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait between the updates, life and one other fic have caught my attention. and also sorry for this chapter being more of a transitional one, i just needed it. so much. esp after that fail of a finale. the next update will pick off right after this scene.  
> anyways, i do plan to make some changes to the length of the upcoming chapters so that i can update more often. i'm looking forward to it, tbh.
> 
> as always, chat with me @ [tumblr](https://voidslantern.tumblr.com) or @ [ pillowfort](https://pillowfort.io/voidslantern) or @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/voidslantern).


	14. your match

Keith’s fingers run gingerly over the orange ribbon his brand new pass to the Garrison Academy is attached to before he slips it around his neck. Shiro hesitates just a moment before he hands one to Lance, as well, though the man's eyes sparkle with excitement and while Shiro both appreciates having Lance in such a good mood, he still dreads that the Academy won't survive him.

After arriving to the Academy grounds, Shiro has made sure to make their first stop at the security post, lest they won’t be able to enter the main buildings without setting off all the alarms and the security breach that’s bound to be on Shiro’s head.

“Is this necessary?” Keith asks, pointing at his full name and picture on the freshly printed pass.

There's also a small picture of Shiro and his credentials as the supervising officer etched below the encryption of visitor's clearances. The Garrison's logo stands out with its bold letters, shiny and shimmering.

Shiro has never had this many guests at once – usually all the visits of his friends were short and accidental and one friend at a time. Now that there are Kuron, Lance, and Keith, and Allura will join them in a few hours – Shiro doesn't know if he should be nervous or ecstatic and pleased.

When he looks at Keith, his chest is tight with yearning. He’s all rugged-looking – as far as one can be after a night spent drinking – and that shirt is definitely Lance’s but he’s still so effortlessly handsome. Momentarily, Shiro forgets he was supposed to answer Keith’s question and it's a struggle not to sound too off-beat.

“Um, yeah. Security around here is pretty tight. We even have a dedicated AI in addition to the regular guards and cameras. These passes should get you everywhere most fun.”

Lance perks up at that, a spitfire of silly questions that are bound to carry throughout the entire day shining like bright gemstones in his eyes.

“Aw come on, Shiro, there’s nothing more fun that the top secret labs. You have aliens here, right?” Lance glances around suggestively, as if the trapdoor to those labs is right at the security post. Kuron snorts at Lance’s antics, blushing lightly when Shiro sends his brother a look.

“We – no, though the Garrison's main base might,” Shiro answers with a tease. Lance is left both frustrated and interested at the same time and Kuron picks up the subject, both of them setting off exploring the idea of finding some kind of an awesome spaceship-slash-robot hidden somewhere in the desert. Keith, however, stays out of their discussion, a faraway look in his eyes that leaves Shiro worried at Keith's quietness.

The security officer eyes Shiro's visitors for a few moments too long and Shiro feels embarrassed enough by that heavy glare Officer Ronaldson is infamous for so with one final flash of his polite smile at the man he motions his companions to start walking together with him.

“We have nearly a half of an hour before my first class,” Shiro begins to explain, not fully aware Keith and he end up walking side by side until they bump into each other by accident, the brief brush of thigh against thigh sending electricity skittering all over Shiro's senses and he stumbles for words as he explains the layout of the Academy, showing them the main building, the commissary, the science wing – a point of interest since Matt is there – and finally, the flight training wing, to which Shiro leads his companions.

The yard is almost unrecognisable with all the snow, and the heavy grey clouds above their heads promise more snowfall during the day. The chilly kiss of the cool air against Shiro's skin is welcome and soothing, a turmoil within him settling as he gathers his strength to focus, to be in control of his voice and expression and words.

It's a lot more difficult than what he's used to. A test of patience.

He just wants to pull Keith in close and kiss all his sorrows away but there's a new kind of distance between them, unfamiliar and foreign. To think, Keith is right there, striding through the crowd by Shiro's side, peaking curiously around at the Academy, taking it all in in that peculiar, very Keith way. As if all is a source of inspiration, everything around him is worthy to be studied, admired, to be tucked away in his memory to later resurface in his stunning artwork.

Shiro wants to just reach out and capture Keith's lips in a kiss the way he was supposed to on the Halloween night. The way it was meant to be. But he didn't back then and sure as hell he can’t now. And now he doesn't know how to fix this.

The automated doors of the flight training corpus swish open before them in a faintly Star Trek kind of a fashion and Lance is all over, loud and gaping, staring at the craft models displayed in glass cases along the main hall, some suspended in the air above their heads. Shiro indulges in telling a few jokes about his part of the Academy and they are lame enough to get Kuron groaning in frustration and Lance howling. Keith only indulges with a small curve of his lips but with the way how things were going between them Shiro treasures that little hint of a smile.

There are a few officers and a lot more of cadets greeting Shiro and his companions as they walk, a few of his favourite second-years already in the building waiting for Shiro's class and outright gaping at the sight of Kuron and whispering in wonder about Lance and Keith. Shiro remembers that one time they all sat in a circle on the floor and talked about Shiro's crush – the same overactive and easily excitable students now probably build their theories about Shiro's visitors.

He takes a second look at them. Yeah. They are definitely onto him now.

Shiro grins at his students as they pass nonetheless and the cadets salute him in greetings, grinning, too.

“Don’t forget your class with me,” Shiro winks at the pair of best buds always butting heads on who gets into the simulator first – much like a certain Lance and a certain Keith are always at each other's throats but are ready to die for each other – and the students laugh and reply that never in the world they’d forget.

“Wow, Shiro, you're like some kind of a rock star around here,” Lance comments, flashing a smile every time there's a group of cadets staring at them.

“That’s because Shiro’s a good instructor,” Kuron grins. “I mean, even the boring stuff is interesting with him.”

“The boring stuff?” Shiro repeats, eyes narrowed. “I thought you liked my classes.”

Kuron flushes again, blabbering. “I-I do! It’s just—Uh—“

Kuron glances at Keith as if asking for a rescue and Keith gives in, sighing. “Can’t say for everyone but I always get bored at lectures. Good to be a college dropout, huh – it’s been years since I’ve last attended a proper class.”

“Wait, but you like Allura’s classes!” Lance shots up.

“Yeah. She’s kind of one of the kind.”

“But—“

Shiro is at the loss for words again, brows knit together. Keith levels him with a challenge in his look. “I guess it’s up to Shiro to prove me wrong about lectures.”

“I’m—Are you actually asking me to compete against Allura? In who is a better teacher?”

“Yep.”

“Keith.”

He only shrugs, winking at Kuron, and stalks ahead of their group without even knowing where they are supposed to go. Shiro sighs, shaking his head in disbelief and fighting the blush threatening to creep up his cheeks, and speeds up his pace to catch up with Keith. Vaguely, he can hear Kuron and Lance snickering behind them but he’s too flustered to pay it much thought.

 

* * *

 

It takes them a few moments to settle at the classroom. It’s not particularly large and besides a few rows of desks for students and a small one for Shiro, it hosts eight flight sims and a large screen to broadcast the feeds from them but Lance makes it seem like it’s one of the most fascinating rooms he’s ever been to. Kuron grins as Shiro laughs and answers Lance’s million questions, though Shiro stutters when Keith leans his shoulder against one of the sims nonchalantly, listening to Shiro with his head cocked to the side and a loose strand of hair tucked carefully behind his ear.

Why the fuck did he not kiss him back.

All four chat for a while, Kuron making amends for telling Shiro’s lectures are boring and Shiro can’t help but grin and hug his brother, teasing him a little before saying he wasn’t offended in the first place. Kuron exhales in relief and smiles back, nudging Shiro with his elbow before their attention is once again claimed by Lance.

It gets easier for Shiro when the time to start the class nears. His students begin to arrive and his guests settle down at the back row, all three throwing thumbs ups at Shiro as he stands by his desk, back straight as he reminds himself he’s a Lieutenant for a reason. It doesn’t help. He blinks at the sight of them, a blush creeping up his cheeks, and then he snaps at himself.

_Shiro, get a grip._

He makes a deep breath, adjusts his uniform and then runs his prosthetic hand through his hair -- somewhat satisfied to see Keith’s eyes following the motion – so he smiles broadly.

“Alright, cadets, some of you may have noticed this already, but we have visitors with us today.”

There’s a rush of whispers in the classroom and Shiro grins, waving his friends over. Lance is the one who immediately picks on Shiro’s intentions and the man walks to Shiro’s side as if the narrow path between the desks is a catwalk and Lance is a rock star, shooting grins here and there. His cadets are positively smitten, Shiro observes, enjoying the sight of them lit with curiosity.

When Kuron and Keith linger behind, still sitting and both clueless, Shiro sighs and Lance lets out a muttered curse before Shiro calls them out by names and Kuron bristles and rushes over, cheeks flushed. Keith slowly gets up, too, stalking behind Shiro's brother and assuming the spot in line together with Shiro and the rest.

Shiro introduces each, briefly mentioning their occupations and the cadets greet them as kin, somewhat eager to show off, too, as they, unprompted, set off asking various, always friendly, questions and the conversations thrives between them all.

Shiro suddenly realises the cadets are doing it to leave a good impression _of him_ and it's an effort not to tear up at the effort put into making this class so infinitely better with their genuine interest in people dear to Shiro.

Instructors shouldn't have favourites but this particular set of second-years is, indeed, the highlight of his teaching. Of his entire career at the Garrison, perhaps, too, but these bright, lovely, excitable young people have helped him deal with the fallout of the accident and, subsequently, losing his link to the sky.

Shiro isn't sure if it's permanent, being grounded. There are many things in motion, out of his control, and the grip of his PTSD hasn't quite loosened, but he remains stubborn and hopeful.

Keith's lips curve into a smile when one of the cadets, Rosie Miles, engages him into a conversation about art, both quickly bonding over their preference to sketch over completing a painting.

“Oh boy, Shiro, do something or Keith will snag your lecture,” Lance whispers to Shiro with a little smirk and Shiro nods and steps around him and Kuron until he’s by Keith’s side again, and there’s little to stop Shiro’s mind from registering the way how Keith’s body tenses at his approach, more in apprehension than anything else. Violet eyes shoot up to glance at him briefly before once again looking away.

Shiro thinks to hell with it all and puts his prosthetic hand gingerly on Keith’s shoulder, ready to let go if Keith doesn’t welcome the touch. A tight ring of tension eases off of Shiro when Keith does, in fact, welcome it, a slight lean into it registering in the tech along with Keith’s warmth.

“Don't let Keith's love for sketching fool you, cadet,” Shiro says casually. “He can pull off full paintings like no other.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “That was like one time and I was getting paid for it.”

“And yet you did it,” Shiro points out, smirking when Kuron realises they are talking about Jiro's commission with a little “oh” escaping his lips.

“Yeah, you guys should check it out on Keith's Instagram, it's such a nice artwork,” Kuron says cheerfully. Lance backs him, sharing Keith’s handle to those who ask.

There's actual horror flashing across Keith's face when cadets scramble for their phones and tablets after Shiro gives his permission to do so. Lance chuckles, shaking his head, something so knowing in his eye making Shiro reassess Keith's best friend, noticing cunning behind the loud, easy-going personality of his. It's been only a few months of actually knowing Lance – Allura did mention him before Keith and he started going to her classes, however, though briefly – but it seems Shiro can never quite stop being surprised by Lance.

He's still so undoubtedly young – even in comparison to Keith, who's not even a year older than his best friend though seems mature and responsible, if a little hot-headed – and yet Lance has grown and continues to do so, changing in subtle ways that Keith often talks about with wonder in his voice. Now, Shiro begins to see that growth of character, too, fascinated by it in a way, though he can’t help to think he’s walking right into whatever surprise Lance has concocted for him.

Shiro is torn out of his thoughts when he feels Keith finally move, Shiro’s hand gradually sliding off of Keith’s shoulder as the man steps towards his best friend.

“Stop advertising me,” Keith hisses when Lance promotes some more of Keith’s drawings.

“Nah, Mullet, you gotta learn how to accept glory and parades in your name,” Lance sing-songs. There are a few amused looks amongst the cadets though everyone’s attention snaps back to Shiro when he offers the cadets to show off their skills in the sims.

“Do you think you’re up for demostrating Keith and the rest that you’re also a great pilot, Cadet Miles?” Shiro says with his arms crossed over his chest, a challenge in his grin and the cadet bristles briefly though hides it a second later, shooting up to her feet and saluting him with a bright and cheery “Yessir!”.

“You’ll be able to see everything that is going on in the simulation on this screen,” Shiro points with his thumb over his shoulder at a large display on the wall that comes to life as Cadet Miles hits the switches in her booth.

“Oh, nice,” Lance says, watching the starter animation of jets soaring high up in the sky play, a small column of statistics getting updated in the corner of the screen.

“Shiro writes all those tests and routines on his own,” Kuron says with no small amount of pride in his voice.

“Well, Matt—Uh, Lieutenant Holt – helps. And the most of the animations and textures are stock, anyway,” Shiro adds sheepishly.

Rosie starts her first run, bravely picking the one of the routes she always struggles with. Lance and Keith stay glued to the floor, both in stunned awe watching her jet shoot through the blue expanse until she enters the combat mode and there are enemy drones attacking her from all sides. By the time Rosie finishes the simulation, both Keith and Lance are actually slack-jawed.

“Can I try this, too?” Lance asks and Shiro knows the victory is his.

“Sure. Take a bit of time to get acquainted with the simulation modules and knock yourself out, Lance.”

The man beams, immediately dashing off to watch the cadets as they begin their training runs.

 

* * *

 

Some time passes and Shiro has his tablet in hand as he scrolls down the results. Keith and Kuron balance out both watching the simulations and talking to each other quietly, Kuron often laughing at whatever Keith says. There have been a few moments when Keith has zoomed out, contemplative and staring out the window and watching the snow fall.

Shiro’s urge to approach him and ask if everything is alright is almost irresistible but every time he gathers himself to do just that one of the cadets would claim his attention with a question or a manoeuvre that is borderline illegal in the Garrison’s book. It’s not like it wasn’t Shiro who has taught them those manoeuvres in the first place – the word travels fast at the Academy and a few fellow instructors have already spared a moment to have a look at Shiro’s visitors, peaking into the classroom curiously for a few moments before returning to their duties. Shiro is truly lucky Commander Iverson has a month-long assignment at the main base and the commander left in charge is a lot more forgiving of feats like these.

It’s closer to the end of the class when Shiro finally gets a moment to talk to Keith, though he nearly drowns in the sudden awkwardness there when before conversation flowed effortlessly between them. Keith is sitting on the desk, scrolling down his phone but still keeping an eye on everyone. Shiro once again is mesmerised by Keith’s ever-present awareness, especially in public places. As if he’s always taunt, always on a look-out. Now Shiro knows there have been only a few times when he has seen Keith truly relaxed, and the difference between this Keith and the Keith with his guard dropped is phenomenal in Shiro’s eyes.

“Hey,” he manages and Keith echoes, voice quiet. “Don’t you want to try out the sims? I’m sure I can get Lance out of one for you.”

Keith raises a brow at the whooping sound coming from one of the sims and Lance’s side of the screen broadcasts him threading some lazy eights in the air that are a little too inconsistent and broad but still eager enough to pass.

“He’s having way too much fun. Disturbing him right now would actually be cruel,” Keith laughs out and the awkwardness is like a corporeal being standing between them.

Shiro really doesn’t like it.

“I can’t have you leave my class without at least one try at the sims, Keith,” Shiro says. “Lance can share for a bit.”

Exactly in that moment Lance crashes his jet into a mountain, and Shiro gestures invitingly. Keith snorts, shaking his head but he jumps off the desk smoothly and follows Shiro to the sims. Lance climbs out after Shiro gives him a few words of advice on how to manage to keep one’s awareness of the surrounding obstacles. Shiro lingers longer than usual giving Keith a rundown of the controls though Keith is at a loss on which of the simulation courses to choose. Shiro thinks for a brief moment, then points at one of his favourites.

“How about this one?”

“Alright, what does it have?”

“Some manoeuvres through the rings in the air, then a race up until you hit an asteroid belt. The goal is to get on the other side of it.”

“Why did I even have a feeling you’d put me through some sort of combat simulations first?” Keith asks as he selects the course.

“If you’d like, you can try those out, too,” Shiro grins, leaning a little on the frame of the sim as he watches Keith get used to the controls of his jet. “Though you kinda look like you need some Zen before that, first.”

Keith snorts. “You can say that again.”

Another long pause.

Shiro chews on his bottom lip, barely aware of the soft murmur of the tech and the voices of the cadets and Kuron and Lance.

“Is everything alright, Keith?” he asks despite well knowing he’s the one to have caused Keith enough of pain already. Doesn’t mean Shiro won’t break his back trying to fix this.

“Yeah.”

“Very convincing.”

Keith manages to tear his eyes away from the screen to level Shiro with a fiery glare at a price of his craft veering dangerously on its left wing and nearly crashing into the ground.

“I’m just trying to process some things.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Shiro asks carefully, well aware that Keith doesn’t like when people prod, especially at something that Keith considers too personal. There had been moments when Keith had let Shiro close, let him in on the thoughts he usually keeps to himself. Shiro holds his breath, wondering if that trust is gone, but Keith makes his way to the stars, brows furrowed in concentration and his lips are sealed tight for a moment before he speeds up and flies into the asteroid field, dancing through the rocky obstacles at an impressive speed.

“Humour me then, Shiro. Have you ever had dreams that are so intense they kind of... leave you changed?”

The question startles Shiro at first. Somehow, it’s not what he has been expecting, but he gives himself a brief moment to consider his answer.

“Outside the nightmares I get after the crash—Well, yeah. There have been a few.”

_The most recent one was all about you, Keith._

“How do you deal with it, then?” Keith asks.

Slowly, Shiro finds himself relaxing as he watches the scenery on Keith’s display shift and change. Something about flying always centers him, always helps him find his balance. Being in Keith’s company in a booth that shields them from the rest of the classroom only adds to the sensation. It’s easier for him to find the right words now, too.

“I’m no expert but—I guess I looked for what those dreams were trying to teach me. What my subconscious was telling me. They showed me my path, in a way.”

The wing of Keith’s jet scrapes against one of the asteroids, his score getting penalty points. Keith once again is quiet, a faraway look in his eye as he shoots through the sky. Shiro gets an eerie feel of sitting in an actual ship, Keith piloting the craft towards a space phenomenon hiding a secret base. The feeling solidifies when Keith clears the asteroid field and a pair of black holes and a blue star between them greets them before his final score appears on the screen.

“Wow. Not bad for the first try,” Shiro laughs, his tablet synching the data from the sim with a more detailed score list. “You’ve successfully beaten the first level.”

“That was the first?” Keith groans, exasperated, slumping in his seat, though turning enough to have a better look at Shiro.

“There’s plenty of levels to go through. Or you’re already giving up, huh?” Shiro teases.

Keith meets him halfway with a challenge in his smirk. “Never.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro keeps Keith a company throughout his entire session, only admits to Keith that this particular simulation course is his personal routine, designed to keep his yearning for the sky at bay when Keith beats the first five levels, finally crashing because Lance and Kuron kept distracting him.

Keith levels him with another fiery look that sets Shiro’s blood boiling in his veins.

“And only now you’re telling me that?”

Shiro shrugs. “You’re the one who turned today into a challenge, Keith.” He leans forward a little, staring right into Keith’s violet eyes. “And I love winning.”

Keith snorts. “Who’s said I’ve enjoyed your video game?”

“Your score, for starters,” Shiro purrs. “You’re a natural, Keith.”

He narrows his eyes. “It was like playing one of those old VR games. Hardly an achievement.”

Shiro inhales sharply, the teasing sting of Keith’s tone getting the better of him so he reaches his flesh hand out, messing Keith’s hair up in frustration. Keith yelps, annoyed, yet even in the light of the simulator’s dashboard his cheeks appear flushed. Shiro? Shiro is too busy savouring the silky texture of Keith’s black hair beneath his fingers, allowing himself this small indulgence that is so easy to mask as a parry to Keith’s teasing.

“SHIRO!”

He only hides behind a laugh and disappears before Keith gets a chance to retaliate, stepping back into the reality and flushing lightly when he notices his brother’s knowing look as he glances between Shiro and the clearly annoyed Keith who stares daggers at Shiro as he passes by.

Shiro gets a vague sense of not hearing the end of it but Kuron is at his side, eyeing Shiro mischievously.

“So how long until you’ll actually ask him out, Ta?”

“W- What?”

“You know, Keith. The one you never shut up about?”

Shiro blushes in earnest now, glancing around them but, thankfully, his cadets are too busy having fun in the sims to listen in, and Lance is out of the earshot, too.

“It’s hardly the right place or time for this talk, Kuron—“

“But when is the right time?” Kuron huffs but respectfully lowers his voice. “I’m going back to college the day after tomorrow and I can’t just leave you to pine after him for hell knows how long.”

Shiro wants to say something though no words come to him, so he just stand there, clutching his tablet as Kuron scrutinizes him. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell Kuron is nearly a decade younger than Ryou and him. There is a peculiar kind of wisdom to Kuron, as if earned in some other life and carried over to this one.

Kuron sighs again. “Look, I want to help.”

“There’s no need—“

“There is a need,” he interrupts. “You two need each other like fire needs air.”

If Shiro tightens his grip on the tablet a fraction more the delicate tech will crack in his hands. He steals a glance at Keith talking with Lance back at their desk on the other end of the room, as if seeking reassurance but instead he remembers the way how heartbroken Keith looked after their talk yesterday.

“It’s—my fault. I’m to blame for all of this mess.”

“Damn it, Shiro. Stop treating this as the end of the world.”

Shiro’s watch goes off at the same time as the Garrison’s AI notifies about the end of the first class of the day. He glances apologetically at his brother.

“Sorry. I need to wrap up the class.”

Kuron’s big, light eyes narrow briefly before he shrugs and stalks off to Lance and Keith and Shiro is left alone with his racing mind and the returned tension bottled up within it so hard it hurts to breathe.

He looks at Keith from across the room as he gives his cadets the usual rundown of their results, cutting it short as much as he can without it losing its purpose. Keith meets his stare, hands crossed over his chest and sleeves rolled up. His hair still sticks out in a different way after Shiro’s touch and something swells inside Shiro’s chest at the sight, the echo of Kuron’s words haunting him.

_Like fire needs air._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter update but their day at the GA is going to be a long one so i'd rather split it into shorter chapters rather than dump 10k+ at once.
> 
> [[ tumblr ]](https://voidslantern.tumblr.com) [[ pillowfort ]](https://pillowfort.io/voidslantern) [[ twitter ]](https://twitter.com/voidslantern)


	15. your burning sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the formatting is wonky bc i'm posting this from my phone in the middle of the night instead of sleeping as a responsible adult should've been  
> and i ship [man]/adam so
> 
> fic patch 15.0.2: formatting no longer wonky

When Allura has arrived to the Garrison Academy, Lance has swept her into a hug before Shiro could even reach her. Somehow, it's proven to be amusing to Keith and now he busies himself studying the dynamics between Shiro and Lance as they both butt their heads for Allura's attention.

Their group stays in the same classroom for the next lecture, though the cadets are first-years now and there is more of theoretical – the boring – stuff than anything else and it's only Shiro who gets to fly as he showcases various manoeuvres the cadets are going to learn to perform over this term.

It's quite a surprise to Keith when Allura actually turns to spend more time with Kuron and him rather than indulge Lance and Shiro. He shares a glance with Kuron but the boy only shrugs, instead busy catching up with Allura as they discuss Kuron's college and Allura's art career. Keith often becomes the subject of their talk, too, and the sudden realisation snaps Keith pretty hard on the head.

All this time, he thought Allura is just making an effort to be friendly with him because of Lance. Now he realises she has adopted him as a protégé and, obviously, the almost military intensity with which Allura drills freelance business advice into him and implores him to use social media for posting his art is actually her way of getting Keith into choosing art as his career, too.

He grunts, sliding down in his seat as he listens to Kuron and her banter. Lance is currently chatting with one of the first-years, effectively distracting him from the screen the cadet is supposed to watch. Keith chews on his bottom lip and frowns, watching Shiro's jet speed through the vastness of the sky with grace and precision and just a touch of hot-headedness as he often takes onto breaking speed limits or makes narrow escapes with cocky manoeuvres.

Keith admits that Shiro is an impressive pilot – as much as he can possibly tell, provided his knowledge of the art of flying is limited to some basics one would pick from movies and video games. He still enjoys watching him, and Shiro's excited expression once he finally climbs out of the simulator is a little wild and does things to Keith.

“Now,” Shiro's voice carries over the classroom, its tone different to the soft manner with which Shiro usually speaks. Confident, commanding. “Who can name all the figures you've seen in this run?”

A few cadets scramble, their hands raised in such a school-ish manner Keith snorts. Not like the Garrison Academy is much different from any other college, after all. The pseudo-military front it presents doesn't erase the fact that at the end of it all, the Garrison is privately-owned. Shiro has said once that they have the government backing them but it still doesn't make it a true authority in Keith's eyes.

He huffs quietly, listening to Shiro engage in a discussion with his cadets. Keith still views Shiro as a military man but it might be just his feelings for him making the exception. So many exceptions.

Is that really what love does to you? What yearning for someone makes you think and do? Because Keith has never been big on romance, yet when he sees Shiro he can't help the urge to be by his side, to support and tease and love him.

Allura's fierceness this morning comes to Keith's mind again, the sting of her words sharp like only truth can be.

_Fight for what you love._

It's been a long time since Keith has felt any fight in him. Any strength. His Dad's death and a decade of mourning have turned him tired and almost withered. Sucked the life out of him.

But then Keith humoured Lance and started going to Allura's classes with him. That same day, he'd met Shiro. Sketched him. Talked to him. Held him by the waist as they flew through the night of Arus, his soul yelling in joy at the speed and the flight and the closeness to the handsome stranger.

And then the whole “found family” thing happened in the span of just a few weeks. Keith also had been drawing a lot. The most he's ever had, perhaps, unless all the doodles he did as a toddler can be counted into this.

The grieving has finally started to let go of Keith. The grieving for his Dad who died too young. For the mother he's never known. For the miserable three years he'd spent in the system before he turned eighteen and ran.

His life isn't perfect but he has new friends. He feels closer to Lance. He's starting a new job soon at the environment that is a lot friendlier than what he's had before. He has Allura's support and, as Keith suspects, her respect, too.

And Keith loves Shiro.

It has been scary to admit at first. It has changed a lot of things for Keith, starting from the way how he goes about his art and ending in the realisation that his sexuality is not completely in the ace spectrum.

Keith glares at Shiro when their gazes meet from across the room and Shiro makes a confused face at him, as if completely clueless for what has caused this.

This dumbass.

He just had to sweep half-naked and stunning into Keith's life and now he's sitting here in an actual classroom, listening to Shiro teach and itching to draw him again and again as if he's some kind of a muse send by the heavens.

Perhaps he is.

Perhaps there is no other place Keith would rather be.

Keith's glare slowly morphs into a smile, beginnings of laughter tickling his lungs at the sight of Shiro completely at a loss. Shiro's own expression softens, tension bit by bit easing off of them both.

Allura is right. You have to fight for what you love.

 

* * *

 

“I'm so hungry,” Lance whines, rubbing his belly as the second class finally ends and Shiro announces a lunch break for them.

“Let’s hope there's something nice at the commissary today,” Shiro says, leading the way to the fancy bridge that links the Academy's buildings together. Keith stalls behind for a moment as he stares down through the glass at the yard below them. There's a proper snowfall outside, and there's almost no people outside safe for one lonely figure of a janitor trying to clear a path but eventually giving up and stalking away.

“Keith?” Kuron calls for him when he notices his absence and Keith runs to catch up with the group.

“Are we getting a tour around?” Keith asks Shiro as they walk.

“Sure. I just need to figure out how to fit it in with all the classes.”

“Maybe Matt could help?” Allura offers. “He’s not that big on flying crafts but I'm sure he could explain aerodynamics just fine.”

Shiro considers it, humming briefly before the doors to the Academy's commissary swish open before them.

“This brings back memories,” Keith says, staring at the standard IKEA tables and chairs placed across the room, a few attempts at decorating the otherwise Garrison-coloured (read: hideous-coloured) room reminding him vividly of the community college he went to before dropping out.

“The food isn't that bad,” Shiro says with a light wince. “Depends on the chef on duty, of course, but it's... passable.”

“You mean 'at least it doesn't make you puke',” a familiar voice comes from behind them and Keith grins at the sight of Matt clasping hands with Shiro and turning to receive a smooch from Allura and a hug from Kuron.

“Wow, Shiro, you just have to stand out, don't you,” Matt says as Keith and Lance greet him, too. “Four visitors at once? Is that even allowed?”

“Apparently it is,” Shiro laughs out. “We’re just about to get some food and then maybe a tour.”

“Aren’t you having like three classes on Fridays?” Matt says, casually readjusting his orange-and-white uniform. It's odd to see Matt dressed up like this, but yet again, Keith can be quite biased since he does enjoy the sight of Shiro in his grey instructor uniform, three golden stripes accenting his broad shoulders.

“Yeah, I do.”

“And you have four visitors.”

Shiro levels Matt with a hard look. “What are you getting at?”

“Well, I've already had Commander Gallagher inspect my lab today so I'm free like a bird for the rest of the day...”

Allura beams and elbows Shiro lightly. “C’mon, Shiro, Matt is being so generous as to offer to substitute for you!”

“Um, actually—” Matt begins but Allura pins him down with a single glance. Shiro still looks hesitant though.

“Please, Shiro. Your cadets can survive a lecture without you – and we'd get to see all of the Academy, right?”

“How often do we even get to be here, anyway,” Kuron adds, pointing at his pass.

Lance sighs as he sweeps in, hooking his lanky arm around Shiro's neck. “He says yes. Thank you, Matt, for your timely input!”

“But I wanted—”

“Uh-huh, too late, buddy,” Lance draws out as Shiro escapes his hold.

“I don't want to cause you any trouble, Matt,” Shiro says hurriedly when Matt pouts. “It's alright if you can't, we can always stay after the classes and—”

“What’s the point, then?” Matt sighs. “Half of the places gets locked down for the night, anyway. Alright, Allura, I see your point. I'll substitute.”

“Thank you, Matt!”

“But you're buying me lunch,” he adds, that smirk an awful lot reminding Keith of Pidge.

“Deal.”

 

* * *

 

The food isn't actually that bad, in the end, and Keith stuffs himself until he feels so full and sleepy he might actually pass out right at the table. Thankfully, the conversation flowing is interesting and he often engages into it, discussing his experience in the flight sim with the rest. Matt has accepted the generous lunch offered to him in the most... kingly fashion and now shares his vegetables with anyone who hasn’t even asked for it.

Sitting so close to Shiro helps Keith stay focused, too, his voice once again returned to that soft, murmuring velvet that gets Keith every time and it is pleasant to have something to talk about and witness Shiro’s passion for his job so evident in every little expression and gesture.

Keith ends up forgetting he’s ever messed up their relationship in the first place, too busy savouring Shiro’s company and warmth to be bothered by anything else at all, so the moment a tall, dusky-skinned officer in sharp glasses approaches their table and a sheepish-looking man with dark skin and high cheekbones trails behind him, Keith is caught off-guard by the immediate shift in Shiro, tension and wariness seeping off of him.

“Hey, Shiro,” the sandy-haired man greets him and offers a curt nod to the rest, his eyes lingering on Keith briefly before returning to Shiro. “I’ve heard you have four visitors today, that’s pretty amazing!”

The man makes an effort to be admirable and well-mannered but it is Shiro whom Keith trusts and the chilly tone with which he greets the fellow officer is telling Keith a lot more than a polite smile of the stranger ever could.

“Hello, Adam,” Shiro gathers himself after a brief startled pause. “This is Adam, a fellow flight lieutenant,” he quickly introduces him, though he grimaces when notices the shy man standing behind Adam. “And uh— Kevin?”

“Curtis,” the man corrects. “It’s alright. I’m a Communications Officer and um—Adam’s fiancé.”

The entire table grows quiet and Keith swears he can hear Matt’s soft curse but Shiro grins, bright and sincere, and gets up and clasps hands with Adam first and then with Curtis, congratulating them both.

“It’s such a good news!” Shiro beams. “I knew you’d settle down eventually,” he teases Adam and he rolls his eyes, though when he glances at his fiancé, Adam’s expression is unmistakably soft.

“Well, it’s uh—quite something, indeed,” Adam says.

“What are you two doing here, anyway?” Shiro asks as he sits down again, Allura and Kuron watching him with a bit too much attention. Keith wonders what is going on with them but Shiro catches his attention again, and he hides behind his coffee as he watches him talk to the newcomers.

“Hiding from Iverson,” Curtis shrugs and Matt snorts.

“I don’t know who you are but I like you, man.”

“It’s easier said than done, though,” Adam adds. “You can dodge the man only for that long – he’ll always find you in the end.”

“Yeah,” both Shiro and Matt sigh sadly.

“So that’s how we’ve ended up all the way here,” Curtis says, a shy smile on his lips. “The main base is quite... a battlefield right now.”

“Who’s Iverson, anyway?” Lance asks curiously.

“He’s a commander here at the Academy. He’s basically like a university president would’ve been but with more bite and a worse temper,” Matt explains. “I guess he’s been delegated to the Garrison base for a month or something.”

Shiro actually shudders at that. “He yells a lot and doesn’t like me on principle.”

“What, really?” Keith mumbles, bewildered there’s actually a person out there who doesn’t like Shiro. It’s embarrassing to admit the thought of people not liking Shiro has never occurred to him until now.

“We have pretty much lucked out to come to the GA when he isn’t around, Keith,” Allura says. “I don’t think it would’ve been even remotely as fun with Commander Iverson getting on Shiro’s nerves.”

“Oh c’mon, I would’ve kicked his butt if he tried to mess up your visit!”

“Are you sure?” Adam asks with a sad little sigh. “The man is like a hurricane incarnate. There’s nothing to stop him.”

“Pfft, I would’ve,” Shiro says, crossing his hands across his chest, a determined gleam in his eye, and yet his pout is nothing short of cute.

Keith gives him a pat on the shoulder in the “I know, I know” kind of a way just to mess with him but Shiro flushes bright red when Keith touches him, the pout morphing into an awkward smile as he glances at Keith.

Lance goes into a couching fit across the table and Allura offers him a few soothing pats on the back and a glass of water. Adam follows Lance’s reaction with brows raised up in surprise but when he glances back at Keith and Shiro, he takes a moment to study them closely.

Whatever it is about the man, it makes blood curl in Keith’s veins. He catches his glance with a stare of his own and holds it, Keith’s hand still resting on Shiro’s shoulder, and Adam is the first one to look away.

“Anyway, we should probably get going,” Adam says after the conversations stalls. “It’s been nice to see you all.”

“Pleasure to meet you!” Curtis adds, waving at them as the two officers leave, followed by everyone’s goodbyes.

Once the two are out the sight, Shiro exhales, slumping in his seat and rubbing tiredly at his eyes. An odd reaction to meeting fellow officers.

“Who was that?” Keith asks, frowning when Shiro actually groans in frustration.

“My ex.”

“Your ex?” Keith laughs awkwardly. “Wait, which one?”

“The Adam one,” Allura offers when Shiro groans some more, busy rubbing furiously at his eyes.

“I can’t believe he’s getting married,” Kuron says, sipping on his drink. “I thought he was kind of more of a career man.”

“He certainly still is,” Allura answers. “I hope their marriage works out – they look cute together.”

Shiro finally sits up properly, and chunks down what was left of his Ceylon tea in a few gulps.

“Well, at least that went well. Thanks for having my back, guys.”

“Anytime, Shiro,” Matt salutes him. “No one gets to face an ex alone on my watch.”

“A true hero,” Kuron purrs, making Lance go into the second coughing fit of the day.

“You okay there?” Keith asks, brows knit in concern as Lance chokes on air. He throws his thumb up in reply but Keith still worries for his best friend.

“It’s a weird day for Lance,” Allura mumbles and Keith recalls his friend’s nightmare.

“Yeah, it is.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro has needed a few moments to gather himself before they could continue exploring the Academy so after finishing up their lunch they’ve made a stop by the restrooms and Shiro comes back from his bathroom break with his face freshly washed and hair dripping water and Lance snickers at the sight.

“Looks like you two have that in common.”

Keith is way too busy processing the entire meeting at the commissary to catch on Lance teasing him but his best friend’s frustrated sigh is enough to make him snap out of it.

“What?”

“Keith—Did that flight sim mess with your brain much?”

“At least I have a brain to begin with.”

“Boys, please,” Allura sighs. “Bickering is all fun but it’s getting old after a while.”

“Not for these two,” Shiro adds when Keith and Lance play innocent. “I bet they’d both be old and wrinkled and with grandkids sitting in their laps but they’d still bicker at each other from across their lawns.”

Kuron snorts. “Why I have no trouble picturing this?”

“Bold of you to assume I’d ever be neighbours with this guy,” Keith mumbles and Lance clutches at his chest.

“There’s nothing bad about being my neighbour! I’m friendly! I don’t play music in the middle of the night!”

“You actually do, Lance,” Allura says.

“Oh boy. Now _they_ are bickering,” Keith laughs when Lance tries (and fails) to defend himself.

“Yeah, we should probably go explore the Academy already. Matt won’t forgive me if we slack off now,” Shiro agrees and motions everyone to follow.

 

* * *

 

Keith might have teased Shiro to make today a challenge to prove he can match Allura’s level of teaching but in the end it turns out that Keith has pretty much played himself.

Shiro is a great teacher without any doubt and even touring the Academy that looks pretty hideous to Keith’s likes with the whole orange theme going on, it still takes Keith’s breath away, listening to Shiro narrate various science and engineering  projects they undertake in the Academy. Matt’s lab proves to be quite a fascinating sight though Lance still manages to break a delicate-looking piece of equipment with a single touch. They leave the crime scene before anyone walks in on them, Shiro and Kuron cackling with laughter once their group puts enough of the distance between them and the science labs.

“Matt is going to be thrilled,” Kuron manages once the initial wave of laughter subsides.

“I feel pretty shitty now,” Lance pants out. “How could I possibly know that thing would break?”

“Lance, here’s a thing about Matt,” Shiro says solemnly, his hand on Lance’s shoulder. “His stuff mostly holds on glue, bubble gums, and hope. Pidge is the genius in robotics of the Holt family.”

“That was a robot?”

“That was a robot.”

“I’ve murdered a robot.”

“You’ve put it out of its misery.”

“THAT’S HORRIBLE, SHIRO!”

And that’s another great thing about the teacher Shiro. As well as he can rile a person up, he can as easily calm them down and he does just that with a few soothing words before even Keith manages to sweep in and save Lance. 

Their next stop is a library, though Keith is disappointed to see there’s more of tablets and computers there than actual books and after a few minutes of unimpressed wandering about, Keith finds a secluded desk by a window and sits down, watching the snow fall outside. He almost regrets having left his backpack locked at Shiro’s office – it would’ve been a nice moment to sketch for a bit while the others enjoy themselves as Shiro explains something Allura has asked about space.

In that moment, Kuron finds him.

“Hey. May I sit with you for a bit?” he asks sheepishly.

“Sure, knock yourself out.”

“Thanks.”

Keith watches the kid for a while before once again staring out of the window when neither breaks the silence. He can still tell there’s something on Kuron’s mind but he’s getting tired and there’s a lot to think on, starting with how hurt Shiro looked after seeing his ex and ending with the shift within Keith himself, some final pieces of him snapping into place like broken clockworks rearranged by a master's hand.

“Uh, Keith?”

“Mhm?”

“I’m leaving for college soon, as you probably know, I’ve said it a million times already, but—“

Keith glances at Kuron, fingers weaved together as he tries to gather himself before speaking again.

“I’ve been thinking of dragging my brothers out for dinner tomorrow. Allura is coming, too, and I thought maybe you’d like to join us, as well. Unless, of course, you’d rather not.”

Keith blinks a few times. If there has been hope he’d think through things properly now it’s all vanquished because Kuron is offering him yet another puzzle he needs time to reflect on but—

To hell with it.

“Alright.”

“It’s really alright if—Wait, what?”

Kuron’s confused face is precious and Keith chuckles at the sight.

“I work in the first half of the day though but I’m free in the evening.”

“You can come? That’s—“ Kuron exhales, a relieved smile on his lips. “That’s so good. I was afraid there for a moment.”

“Why?”

“Um—Forget that I’ve said that. Is it okay if I’ll text you with the details later today or tomorrow morning once I get my dumbass brothers pick a place?”

Keith laughs. “You make them sound like Lance.”

“That’s what all brothers seem to be like, no?” Kuron giggles, too.

He leaves shortly afterwards and Keith is left wondering if he’s not being clingy and way too much in their way but then again it just... happens. The universe has let him meet a group of amazing people and now it insists he stays with them.

So be it.

 

* * *

 

Shiro likes to leave all the good stuff for the desert. They’ve been to a library, to a few other, bigger classrooms and a giant sim room that apparently is meant for the team building exercises where up to ten pilots join in the same simulation. Keith is curious, but he isn’t impressed and as if sensing that, Shiro flashes a broad grin and leads them through a labyrinth of halls and passes and a few skyways until in a grand gesture he presents the Academy’s gallery.

When Keith steps inside, his inspiration is purring pleasantly at the back of his mind. There’s so much here – system models, craft replicas, little landscapes of the surfaces of the explored planets and moons of their Solar system. Keith spins on his feet, trying take everything in at once and he catches a glimpse of Shiro staring at him with a broad grin on his lips and suspiciously wet eyes.

“There’s so much here!” he gasps, noticing the star map painted on the ceiling like a fresco and Keith points at it with his finger, gaping. “Look at that!”

Allura laughs, “Yes, this is one of my best works.”

“You did that, Princess?” Lance asks in surprise. “All of that? By yourself?”

“It’s not that hard,” she shrugs. “I just wanted to make Shiro happy and I know how much this gallery means to him.”

“It certainly does,” Shiro agrees, still looking at Keith. “I used to come here when I was just a cadet. It was and still is my safe place – it’s quiet and beautiful.

“I know you’ve had to pull a few strings with your dad to be allowed to paint here, Allura,” Shiro adds. “I’ll never be tired of thanking your stubbornness.”

She flicks her hair out of the way and grins. “It’s getting me places.”

Lance cackles at that and Kuron smiles gently at them all.

 

Keith quickly loses the sight of his friends, busy dashing from display to display and admiring everything. Shiro finds him a short time afterwards and together they go off exploring. It’s more interesting with Shiro, anyway – Keith has grown tired of reading the little cards with historical or scientific facts at each of the displays a long time ago, though Shiro’s rundowns prove to be a lot more entertaining anyway and Keith often laughs at the humorous way in which Shiro presents them.

After a few more displays, Shiro tugs gently at the sleeve of Keith’s shirt and he follows, walking quietly with him until they find themselves in a small area standing separate from the rest of the gallery, a model of a beautiful craft greeting them.

Keith recognises it from the visit here together with his dad a long time ago when he hadn't even met Lance yet.

“That’s the Calypso, the first ship to carry astronauts to the moons of Jupiter.”

“It took them three years to get there. Longest voyage of its kind.”

Shiro’s surprise seeps into his chuckle. “That’s right. Reading about that mission is what made me want to be a pilot. Those astronauts braved the unknown.”

“My Dad loved it, too. He often told me how he – a little kid back then – sat glued to the TV watching the launch. I think he actually skipped school for it and got into a lot of trouble with his parents.”

“Sounds like your Dad was a pretty amazing person,” Shiro smiles again.

They circle the model, admiring its lines and form until they end up on the other side and Keith notices a bench there, right under the ship’s wing.

“Wait, is this the place where you’ve been reading that day?”

“Huh?”

“When we’d flown to the river on our hoverbikes?”

Shiro actually blushes. “Uh—You’ve got me. This is the place. I’m actually surprised you’ve recognised it.”

“You keep your camera out of the focus half the time when you video call so it was more in shot than you were,” Keith deadpans and Shiro is embarrassed enough to mumble something under his breath. “Besides, how book two is going for you?”

“It’s great! I’ve finally finished it yesterday.” Shiro pauses, as if thinking something over, then continues. “Your doodles and comments along the chapters make the experience even better.”

“You like ‘em, don’t you?” Keith smiles.

“More like love them,” Shiro breathes out and the air between them grows pregnant with feelings and for once Keith isn’t entirely sure they all come just from him. It’s difficult to breathe, to think straight, when his heart races in his chest and suddenly he’s very aware there’s no one out here but the two of them.

“I’ll get you the third book tomorrow, then,” Keith offers but it gets Shiro startled.

“Tomorrow?”

“Kuron has invited me to that dinner he’s planning before he leaves Arus. I hope it’s alright?” Keith adds, suddenly self-conscious, “I’m not intruding onto a family moment?”

“Why would-- Of course not, Keith!” Shiro exclaims. “You’re more than welcome!”

Keith exhales in relief. “Thanks, Shiro.”

 

* * *

 

“Alright, how are we even supposed to get home?” Lance asks sceptically as all five stand by the Academy’s exit, staring with worry at all the snow that has fallen during their day with Shiro.

“Taxi,” Allura and Kuron say at the same time.

Lance presses his face into the window. “So. Much. Snow.”

Shiro has left their side briefly to talk to that same security officer who’s made everyone’s passes and Keith levels the man with a glare. He’s just so sleazy and Keith can see Shiro argue with him briefly before the man finally agrees to something Shiro wants from him. When Shiro returns, he’s clearly frustrated and worked up but his gaze softens when he looks at Keith.

“I’ve had a chat with our—respectable security. You can keep your passes.”

“So we can come here search for aliens anytime we want?” Lance snickers, voice muffled as he still presses his nose to that glass.

“W—Yes of course,” Shiro sighs, “this is exactly my reasoning. Aliens. Big, purple ones with fur.”

Kuron giggles as he puts on his hat while Allura is calling a taxi service. “Thanks, brother. I’ll be haunting your workplace every time I’m at Arus. Can’t wait to rub this pass into Ryou’s face.”

Shiro bites back a laugh. “Oh, he’ll never forgive me for this.”

 

Keith happily inhales the icy cold air once he walks outside, his scarf flapping in a gush of wind. He doesn’t like winter much but after the snowfall the sky has cleared and now there’s sun shining and there’s warmth from its touch on Keith’s skin.

There are some cadets rushing to and fro and a few officers, too, but thankfully, there’s no sight of any higher-ranking officers and that Adam guy and his fiancé have blissfully disappeared to somewhere, no sight of them ever since the lunch.

Shiro and Allura are chatting happily about something while Lance and Kuron have definitely naughty expressions as they hide behind Allura’s and Shiro’s backs until with a war cry they launch a snowball attack. Keith has lucked out to be left out of the first wave of the assault but immediately afterwards he gets a face full of snow and curses loudly.

“THAT’S FUCKING IT!”

He ducks behind a bench, grabbing a fistful of snow and quickly making his first snowball in years while there’s already a full-scale war going on between the rest of his companions. When there’s an opening, he launches forward, landing a nice perfect blow to Lance’s face and the man yells for revenge.

Allura turns out to be a force to be reckoned with as she manages to avoid getting hit yet her hits sting for a few moments. There are some cadets and even officers watching them fool around in the snow and after a while they give in and join in, too, and laughter rings through the Academy's yard.

“EAT SNOW,” Lance yells as he makes a chase around the yard for Keith but ends up hitting Shiro instead. The man doesn't look particularly impressed and then Keith and he tag-team Lance until he yields. Allura goes after them in Lance's name and Kuron—

Where the hell is this kid, anyway?

Keith yelps when he barely escapes an encounter with a mountain of snow Allura has been planning on dumping on his head but Shiro's betrayed cry is enough of an indicator that that mountain has found a place to land despite Keith's narrow escape.

Lance is sitting in the snow, sobbing in laughter at the sight of them and Keith grins, too, hunting down Allura and pinpointing a weak spot in her defence. She roars, spinning in the snow but it is too late anyway and Keith sticks his tongue out at her.

There are snowballs flying over their heads and people laughing. Finally, the rigid military academy feels like a college and Keith laughs. He isn't even aware he's lost his beanie sometime during the fight but he doesn't care as he makes Shiro his target and they exchange a few hits before Shiro slips in the snow and lands on his ass. Keith is immediately there, a giant snowball in his hands as he stands over him, trying to catch his breath.

“Any last words, Lieutenant?”

Shiro levels him with a challenging look that makes something primal stir within Keith, the sight of panting Shiro sprawled in the snow making Keith too hot for his clothes.

He answers his silent challenge with a crooked smirk. Keith is about to take his sweet vengeance for Shiro messing up his hair earlier today but as he begins the movement, Shiro twirls in the snow, his legs catching Keith's in one swift motion and Keith falls forward together with that giant snowball. The impact is softened by Shiro catching Keith mid-fall but it still knocks the air out his lungs.

Keith ends up sprawled on Shiro, bodies flushed together and covered in snow. The two breathe heavily, too busy staring at each other to notice Kuron reappearing seemingly out of nowhere and landing the final blows with a victorious yell.

Shiro and Keith both get hit but neither seems to mind. Keith laughs, trying to get the snow out of his hair and Shiro groans when it falls onto his face so he rolls them on the ground, pinning Keith beneath himself.

There are people still laughing and playing around them but it's like the whole world zeroes in on just the two of them, all sounds fading into the background.

Despite being wet all over and covered in snow, Keith has never felt warmer watching sunlight reflect across the white fluffy blanket they are lying on or seeing it tangle in Shiro's hair until he can't help but grin, his eyes wrinkling at the corners.

“Your hair is getting whiter,” Keith whispers, his gloved hand reaching up to brush Shiro's forelock away from his eyes.

“Does it, now?” Shiro asks with a bit of surprise in his tone.

“Yeah. It's almost as white as Allura's.”

Shiro smiles at that, leaning closer to Keith, their breaths mingling. “It’s a good colour, then.”

Keith pulls him closer until their foreheads touch, enjoying the way how Shiro is responsive to him now, a definite contrast to how startled he was when Keith kissed him.

“It suits you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[ tumblr ]](https://voidslantern.tumblr.com) [[ pillowfort ]](https://pillowfort.io/voidslantern) [[ twitter ]](https://twitter.com/voidslantern)


	16. ain't you my baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long time no see, it's Shiro's birthday and we go off with a two-chapter update this time!

Kuron’s pacing can drive anyone mad and Shiro doesn’t really blame Ryou, who already has been nursing a headache since before his arrival at Shiro’s apartment, for snapping, then apologising, then asking Kuron to sit the hell down.

Kuron doesn’t seem to be offended. In fact, he hardly looks like he has registered his brother’s displeasure at all. There’s a deep frown in his brow and he flips his phone in his hand, touching his lips and so lost in thought the delicate tech often threatens to fall out of his hold. From time to time, Kuron begins to type furiously. Sometimes, he goes out to answer a phone call and doesn't come back for a while.

Kuron has been like this ever since their return from the Garrison Academy yesterday. Shiro feels confused by Kuron’s reluctance to share what’s going on and it leaves him worried for his little brother but every time Ryou or he ask him if everything is alright Kuron waves them off with some cheerful remarks and resumes his rather weird behaviour like it’s nothing. Thus, Shiro has ended up in his room together with Ryou as the twins scrutinize Shiro's wardrobe under Black's heavy surveillance from the top bookshelf. Kuron has hardly noticed their absence so caught up he is in whatever it is he’s doing, anyway.

“If I do really listen to you I might as well set my whole closet on fire,” Shiro comments when Ryou tosses aside Shiro's favourite white shirt.

Ryou regards him for a moment, unimpressed, and then pulls out a black, slim fit shirt and a deep purple tie with a dark floral pattern. Ryou regards both items for a moment then tosses them on Shiro's bed where already is a heap forming for Shiro’s choosing of the clothing Ryou deems acceptable to be worn tonight.

“No wonder Keith's taken so long to kiss you, Shiro,” Ryou rumbles as he finds an old but favourite tee with a nerdy print and dumps it on the floor. Shiro immediately rescues the tee, glaring at his twin. “Your outfits are terrible.”

“They are not—”

“Most of the time you look like some kind of a docile teacher,” Ryou deadpans. “Where’s the spark? Where’s the sex appeal? Moreover, do you seriously want to spend the rest of your life pining after Keith or do you actually want to put a ring on it?”

“Wh- What ring.”

Ryou groans, banging his head on the closet’s wooden board, then groans some more, rubbing furiously at his hurt forehead. “The. Ring. C'mon, Shiro, work with me here.”

“...Oh.” Shiro is more than just slack-jawed at the idea, though it leaves something warm and pleasant fluttering inside Shiro's chest. “Isn’t it a little early to be discussing marriage when Keith and I aren't even dating yet?”

“You could've been if you'd kissed Keith back on Halloween.” Shiro glares. Ryou snickers. “You are lucky to have me as your twin, Ta.”

“Where’s any luck in that.”

Ryou cocks a hip after fishing out a black faux leather jacket out and trying it on. It looks good on him, even if Shiro is considerably bulkier that Ryou, the jacket still hugs his twin’s shoulders tightly.

“First of all, I'm awesome.”

“No, you're really not.”

Ryou throws a sock at Shiro. He dodges and counter-attacks with a pillow – which gets Ryou across the chest.

“Second of all,” Ryou laughs after a few moments of the twins fooling around and pretending to fight, tossing that poor pillow at each other across the room, Black glaring at them coolly, “I give great relationship advice.”

“Is this why you're still single?” Shiro teases as he plops back down on the bed and scoots a little away from the pile of clothing there.

“Hey, I've dated more people than you and Kuron put together!”

“Since when quantity is better than quality?”

Ryou grows tired of the pillow fight and returns to selecting a few more shirts – all black or a colour deep enough to be close to it – and tosses them on the bed, then throws himself there, too. Shiro grumbles when he nearly falls off the bed from the impact.

“Well, quantity gives you experience. Quality... Your Keith is that.” Ryou grows serious gazing at Shiro and he can see himself reflected in that deep grey. “Treasure that boy, Shiro. There aren't many people out there like him. I don’t know him much yet but from what I’ve seen of him – he really cares for you, without any holdbacks. It’s— quite a sight, the two of you.”

Shiro falls back on the bed, chewing on his lip. Ryou rarely speaks with his heart open but his deep voice trembles now in that tell-tale way of his that suggest deep emotion behind his words. It always gets to Shiro and makes him open up to his brother, too.

“Keith-- I've never met anyone like Keith,” Shiro says in a low voice. “He’s brave and stubborn, sad and lonely, but fierce and thirsting for freedom, for adventure. It's like—” Shiro palms through his hair, pushing it back as Ryou and he stare at the ceiling together, Black letting out a purr from the bookshelf. “He has a wildfire beneath his skin and-- he's well in control of it but it’s a wall around him from the rest of the world. Protecting that fire. Sometimes I think he’s actually let me in, let me see more of himself than he lets even Lance to, which is really... telling.”

Shiro laughs under his breath. “I’m talking nonsense. They’ve known each other for decades. There’s no way— Ugh.”

Shiro trails off, waving his hands as if trying to communicate the rest of his thought with the motion. Ryou turns his head and looks at Shiro with a little naughty grin on his lips. “You’re so dumb when you're in love.”

Shiro only replies in a non-committal huff.

“You weren't like this with what's his name,” Ryou continues. “Must be real love if you're lagging at every mention of your little artist. Look, you even have his drawings in your room. Wait, are they actually framed? How cute—”

“Shut up.”

“I will when you marry him,” Ryou sing-songs then yells when Shiro grabs the pillow again and smacks his brother right in the face. Somewhat satisfied, Shiro rolls back to lie on his back, chuckling at Ryou’s string of curses.

Attracted by the noise, Kuron walks in – only to get a pillow in his face.

“Hey, what did I do?!”

“Get your ass over here,” Ryou grins, both twins scooting over and dumping Shiro’s clothing on the chair by Shiro’s desk. Kuron glances at Black with a brow raised – the cat answers with a slow blink of golden eyes. Kuron shrugs, pockets his phone and joins his brothers.

Shiro’s never even considered a queen-sized bed can become so small so quick but he doesn’t remember when was the last time when he got to relax like this on a Saturday noon with his brothers, and the warmth from thinking about Keith and bathing in loving his idiot brothers blooms in full inside Shiro’s chest. He grins and laughs together with them until happiness spills out of him and he puts his hands around their shoulders and pulls them in for a hug.

Ryou wrinkles his nose and tries to fight but it’s half-hearted and he ends up scooting closer until his pose mirrors Kuron’s – who is happily snuggled into Shiro’s side like he always did when he was little.

“I’ve missed you, guys,” Shiro murmurs, squeezing their shoulders a little tighter.

“Same here,” Kuron says rather solemnly. “I’m so sick of being away from you.”

“You gotta hold on, buddy,” Ryou replies, voice shifting to soft. “We can always come visit you but you gotta focus on your studies.”

“I know. I still miss you all.”

Shiro sighs against Kuron’s forehead, humming a song Kuron had always asked Ryou and him sing to him as a lullaby after their parents passed away. It’s a rock song but the twins make it work, and now Kuron perks up at the tune he hasn’t heard in years, and Ryou snorts at his startled expression.

“Is this... _Across The Universe_?”

“Did you actually forget your favourite song?” Shiro asks with bewilderment.

“I—Did I?”

Shiro and Kuron share a glance then stare at Kuron in disbelief.

“All those years of song-worship and you—“

“We’re very disappointed, young man.”

“I’m sorry! Really!”

The twins burst out laughing at Kuron’s genuine repentance and it takes them a few more moments of teasing to sing it a duet the way they used to do when all three were over a decade younger and some memories stir within Kuron, his eyes lighting up as he grins and gingerly hums along.

Shiro, on the other hand, thinks of Keith as he sings the lyrics and the mood in the room shifts again, either because of the emotion leaking into his voice as he sings or at the fact they all are busy wondering about tonight. To Shiro, all the love songs have become reminders of Keith and more often than not he ends up stunned by the lyrics he once had brushed off in favour of the tune itself. Now, his playlists are haunted by his feelings and all the could-have-beens and the proclamations of love that brim on the edges of his soul every time he thinks of the violet-eyed artist.

It’s not just... proclaiming love; per se. Shiro isn’t that big of a romantic and prefers actions over words. So to him, love is making Keith laugh out loud and smile for hours until his face hurts and Shiro can’t tear his gaze away from the dimples in Keith’s cheeks. Love is sharing ideas and building plans together and then seeing said plans through, the sense of accomplishment and the shared satisfaction over what they’ve done together warming his heart almost as much as Keith’s presence does. It is racing together, love for speed and flight and the sky shared, doubled, intense. It’s walking down the road together at night and staring at the stars and each other as if they are equals with the celestial bodies, deserving to be admired the same way as the brilliant dots scattered across the sky.

Together.

Shiro has never cared for being a part of a together that isn’t his family, both blood and found. With Keith, however, he yearns for a together that is soul-bound; a together that means Keith cares for him and wouldn’t let go in the same way as Shiro wouldn't; a together where both Shiro and Keith do not give up on each other but instead face the world hand in hand.

Kuron is still cuddled up into Shiro's side but Ryou rises on his elbow and stares him dead in the face. Shiro, somewhat carried away by his thoughts, doesn’t like being snapped back into reality by his twin making a face at him.

“What?”

“I’m just thinking about you and Keith.”

“Weird, me too.”

“I wanna know all the steamy details.”

Shiro arches his brow and gives his brother a look in a way that suggests that he thinks Ryou quite touched in the head.

Kuron grunts a curse and Ryou reaches over Shiro and shoves him lightly, then again returns his attention to questioning Shiro.

“No, really, tell me about him. How did you two meet? How did you fall in love?”

Shiro’s brows shoot up. “You’re freaking me out, Ryou. Why do you even want to know all that?”

“Well, you’ve never told me about it,” Ryou pouts, “and it’s kind of weird not knowing the basic stuff when I’m about to spend a whole evening with you, Keith, the baby bro, and Allura. You know me, I might say something wrong or do something stupid—“

“Asshole.”

“You love me, Ta.”

“Actually, you’ve never told me this, either,” Kuron adds, batting his eyelashes at Shiro as innocently as humanly possible. “All I know is that you’ve a crush on him and that you’ve grown closer trying to get Allura and Lance together—“

“Oh, how _that_ is going, by the way?”

Shiro is no fool and he knows when his brothers won’t back down until he humours them – today being one of those times. He rolls his eyes. “Ugh. Fine. You two love to team-tag me.”

Shiro sits up a little more comfortably and begins telling the story of how humouring Allura and daring to model butt-naked for her class has made him, ultimately, a different man.

At first, he admits how hard it was for him to even show up, tells of the mini panic attack he’d had as he waited for Allura to call him in. The effort each step took, the cold sweat running down his spine as he first entered the classroom—and the shockwave of seeing Keith for the first time. A handsome stranger, a little rough and ruffled, and most definitely the hottest person he'd ever seen, now stared at Shiro with violet eyes wide and lips parted ever so slightly. Shiro's own gaze was naturally first drawn to Keith, too. He hardly had seen anyone else in the studio, half-aware of what Allura was telling him, blushing furiously at the whole idea of sitting in front of someone as beautiful as Keith completely naked and exposed as he’d draw him. Not to mention (and Shiro doesn’t really mention this out loud) the bolts of unexpected arousal going straight to his dick. Only his ever-present anxiety helped to hold himself in check.

Shiro knew he was deep in trouble about an hour in, his mind and eyes wandering back to the dark-haired stranger, completely mesmerised by the way how his glances could cut glass and how his sharp cheekbones were framed by the dark, stubborn locks that seemed to curl at the ends. Shiro doesn’t mention the inappropriate thoughts running through his head to his brothers but it’s still evident his focus on Keith had been more than that of a sweet crush at the first sight.

By the end of that session, Shiro tells them, he was positively smitten, a few words he’s exchanged with Keith treasured inside his heart since he had no hopes of meeting him again after the day was done. At first, at least - it was only quite some time later when Lance had come up with an offer to go out together next week. It all kind of went down on Shiro even harder than he thought possible when he’d seen how well Keith draws. For Shiro, it wasn’t anymore about being a model and exposing his scars and the arm when there were days when he struggled with wearing a sleeveless shirt. He simply did not expect to be portrayed the way Keith did it; he did not expect the amount of his emotion Keith had bared in his pencil rendering. He really did not expect to gasp in awe because he’d never thought of himself as someone who can be admired and pictured in this way, where scars aren’t terrifying and ugly but are marks of survival and will, where a cybernetic arm is a strength instead of a weakness.

Allura had been trying to tell him this for nearly two years but Keith had convinced him with a single drawing. Shiro liked Keith’s art so much for a few moments he forgot about his own struggles. It was a gulp of fresh air he had been fighting for for so long. Well, he might not be convinced in full – this gets Ryou and Kuron grunting in disapproval – but he’s set on the right path at the very least.

Shiro then laughs and tells them of Keith bickering with Lance, of the way how Allura’s eyes would always light up as she looked at them. He tells them of the lift home, of Keith’s hands on his waist and how he nearly leaned into his touch more times he’d like to admit. Then, the assuredness Keith had planted into Shiro’s mind with fierce words and eyes gleaming with conviction when before Shiro wasn’t sure of a single thing that happened that day and if he was of any use to Allura and her students at all. That alone – Shiro wanted to kiss Keith right on the first day of knowing him, wanted to ask him out on a date or just pull him somewhere secluded and—

Shiro halts, trailing off lamely, both of his younger brothers snickering but urging him to go on.

Shiro then tells them of the days spent aching for the artist he might never meet again because he’s Shiro and his life often conspires against him, of the nights spent sleepless as he stared at Keith’s drawing, favouring it over any other. And then they’d run in into each other at the store and Shiro had made a fool of himself with his hiccuping fit but Keith didn’t mind. He laughed and glanced at Shiro from beneath his thick eyelashes and made Shiro’s lonely heart ache some more.

That day, he’d spent some ridiculous amount of time trying to dress up for the evening (“Much like today”, Ryou mutters), still harbouring that faint hope that Allura and Lance are still up for that little plan of hanging out together after the art class, and that Keith would be there, too.

“Do I really need to tell you how that went off?” Shiro asks after he grows too awkward talking about his crush like this, especially if the words keep falling off of his lips and he just can’t stop the flow, often oversharing.

“You’ve spent the entire evening drooling over Keith?” Ryou suggests. Shiro’s silent glare is an answer enough for him and Ryou snickers again.

Kuron, on the other hand, is grinning so wide his eyes wrinkle at the corners. “So it really was love at the first sight?”

Shiro nods. “It was more of a crush at first but it... bloomed and grew and after Keith sat with me through a panic attack I just— I love him. There’s no one else I’ve felt so much and so quick and—“

Shiro plants his flesh hand over his heart as if it is about to burst. He sees Keith’s smiling face before his mental eye, the proud arch of thick brows and fluffy eyelashes framing violet eyes, he recalls the silk of his hair and the strength of his arms, and his voice rings through Shiro’s ears, both teasing and soothing. All those times they'd laughed together and faced their fears and talked their hearts out, baring souls and growing closer... Shiro closes his eyes. It's too much for him but here is the simple truth. He loves Keith.

“So, why the hell you didn’t kiss him back on Halloween?” Kuron asks innocently. “Too in love to move?”

“I— I did not expect that to happen.”

He honestly didn't. That ugly, weak part of him always whispers Shiro isn't someone Keith would want.

“Forgot how to kiss?”

“I wasn’t sure Keith even liked me in that way.”

“Drop it, Kuron. Shiro’s hopeless.”

“But I want to know! If you like someone and they kiss you, it’s only natural to kiss back!”

Shiro, “Yeah but--”

Ryou sighs, long and frustrated. “Why do you think Keith kissed you in the first place, you dumbo? Have you ever even considered it?”

“I—“

Shiro feels like an idiot. Keith wouldn’t have kissed him if he didn’t like him, right? Of all the people in the world, Keith isn’t the one to give out hugs and kisses freely.

“Oh fuck.”

 Even Black turns his head and stares at him with so much judgement in the golden glare Shiro can’t take it anymore and he covers his face with his hands.

“C’mon, guys, it’s not like I’m not aware I’ve fucked up. Keith made sure I know that, too.”

“Oh? So, if even Keith recognises your exceptional level of disaster gay, why the hell are you still sitting on your ass, brother dearest?” Ryou coos.

“Huh?”

“Look,” Ryou sighs and gets off the bed. “I don’t know how is that possible that you – a person who’s had a relationship before that lasted a couple of years – be so helpless around Keith but here’s a little plan for you since you’re so in love your fucking brain is in a shut down.”

“Ryou, what the f—“

“First, put on something real tight for Keith to admire,” Ryou says as he points with his thumb over his shoulder at the previously selected clothing. “Then, put your mouth to good use.”

Shiro chokes on air. “Excuse me?!”

“What, what did you think?” Ryou looks genuinely offended but there’s his signature smirk on his lips. “I’ve meant compliment Keith! Tell him what you’ve told us, that he has “bushy eyelashes that cast shadows on his sharp cheekbones” or that “watching him draw is such a turn-on”—“

“RYOU—!“ Shiro roars and launches himself at his twin, Kuron sobbing in laughter on the bed.

 

They don’t really get to spend any more time fooling around. Allura calls Shiro and Keith texts him and Kuron a couple of times but Shiro, embarrassed as hell but somewhat willing to listen to Ryou’s advices, decides to really push himself past the awkwardness and self-doubt that get a hold of him every time he’s around Keith in favour of courting him, instead.

It doesn’t really help, however, that Kuron discovers the red Moleskine Shiro has purchased a week ago lying on Shiro’s desk. It is stylised to have golden stars at the cover and a small quote beneath them – Shiro is quite proud of how the sketchbook has turned out to be. He’s spend a lot of time trying to get it right given the limitations of what the personalization form on the seller’s webstore could give him.

“What’s this?” Kuron asks curiously, running a finger over the pressed stars.

Shiro, who hasn’t really recovered from his brothers dragging his sorry ass less than half an hour ago, feels blush creep up his neck and cheeks with a renewed vengeance.

“A... a gift.”

“To Keith, isn’t it?” Kuron grins. There’s a small art supplies kit, also with pressed stars and a small galaxy charm attached to the zipper, the kit sturdy and filled with a few mechanical pencils and ink pens, a set of greyscale Copics, and more than enough of fineliners. “It’s nice. He’ll like it. Are you giving it to him today?”

“I—“

Frustrated, “Shiro—“

“..Yes?”

“Good!” Kuron says with a wide grin and Shiro just knows he’s sealed a deal with the devil now that he has let both of his brothers have a go at him at fixing his love life.

It’s not like he needs his hand held through this. It’s that Keith makes his knees go weak beneath him every time and Shiro has never been good at courting – not with Adam, anyway. But it’s Keith. Shiro will do his best for Keith.

Once Kuron exits Shiro’s bedroom, he takes a deep breath, steadying himself.

 _You’ve got this, Shiro,_ he tells himself. Then, he glances at his phone, musing at the lock screen that is a photo of Allura, Lance, Keith, and him fooling around at Hunk’s diner, his gaze inevitably drawn to Keith’s laughing face and Shiro’s arm around his shoulders. He looks at the Moleskine. He looks at the pile of clothing he’s supposed to assemble an outfit from. A drop of sweat rolls down his temple, his only flesh hand growing damp, too.

_Or not._

 

When Shiro emerges from the shower and quickly dries himself, then puts on some sweatpants and a tee since there are people at his apartment and he can’t really go around with only a towel around his hips, his brothers are sitting at the kitchen table together with Allura, chatting with each other casually. She’s just arrived from her dad’s house and now Shiro greets her with a warm smile and Allura abandons her cup of tea and hugs Shiro tightly in return.

“Are you ready for tonight?” she asks him quietly.

Shiro grins and nods. “I just need to get dressed. You’re looking radiant, by the way.”

Allura smoothes down the lapels of her smart vest, the narrow pants hugging her hips and the overall peachy colour of her suit and the white of her shirt making her glow. “Thank you! By the way, Keith called—“

“Oh?”

“His landlord decided to show up unexpectedly so he’s in a bit of trouble right now but he promises he won’t be late.”

“We won’t go without him, anyway,” Ryou says. “Kuron has invited him and Kuron’s word is law tonight.”

“Oh hell yes,” Kuron grins.

Shiro pads over to where he’s left his phone and sees the missed call from Keith. It’s still about two hours before they have to be at the restaurant but it still sits uneasy for Shiro that some asshole has decided to mess with their plans and quite possibly cause trouble to Keith. On his way to his bedroom, Shiro text a few encouraging words to Keith, his heart sinking a little as he remembers not Keith, but Lance badmouthing Keith’s landlord more than a few times. If anything, the guy rubs off to be somewhat abusive and creepy. After a moment, Shiro quickly types another text.

            S: _If you need it, I can come over._

Keith replies a few moments later.

            K: _he’s a dick but i can handle him_

K: _thanks tho_

S: _Just be careful, Keith._

The worry nags at him and he paces restlessly in his room. The soft voices of his family carry through the apartment but Shiro’s mind is two blocks down the street, where Keith’s one-room place is. Landlords can be the worst, he knows that firsthand – the first apartment Ryou and he could afford was more or less decent and enough for them and Kuron but the landlord made sure to make them miserable and made so many rules and restrictions they had barely lived there half a year before moving out. The difference here is that the guy Keith has to deal with right now is quick to anger and hates Keith on principle and Lance has mentioned that even he felt unsafe in the presence of the man.

There are needles prickling at Shiro’s skin and the stubborn buttons of the shirt he’s picked refuse to work with him. Black jumps off the top shelf and meows at Shiro questioningly, prompting him to bend down and rub behind Black’s ears.

“I know I’m being silly, kitten,” Shiro says. “Keith’s strong. He can handle this.”

Some time passes, spent in worry and pacing. It still takes a message from Keith confirming that the landlord has left and he’s good to go to calm Shiro but the moment he reads the text he jumps into action and announces to his brothers and Allura that it’s time to move out.

“Is Keith alright?” Allura asks with her brows knit together in genuine concern as Shiro puts on his jacket. “Lance’s told me enough about that douche. I hope he had left Keith be.”

“I do, too,” Shiro says earnestly. “Let’s go find out.”

 

Allura is the first one to dash down the steps of Shiro’s apartment complex and wrap her hands tightly around Keith who’s been waiting for them with the hood of his coat pulled up watching icicles gleam in the light of street lamps. It’s already dark enough outside and the air is crisp and the sky is clear. Yesterday’s snow has been cleared off the pavement and roads but it is still a too wintery picture for early November. Shiro tightens the heavy scarf looped around his neck, a puff of vapour coming out of his mouth and forces his gait to be unhurried and steady as he follows Allura.

Keith’s greetings turn into an actual squeak when Allura lifts him up and spins him a little and Kuron and Ryou both chuckle at the sight as Shiro catches and steadies Keith once Allura puts him back down. Keith is more than just stunned by Allura’s display of strength and now is staring at her with his eyes wide.

“What? I used to do boxing,” she shrugs innocently.

“I used to be her punching bag,” Shiro grins when Keith still remains so adorably flushed and silent but not at all moving away from Shiro’s arms. Naturally, his hand slides to Keith’s waist and stays there, flutterings of warmth spreading inside Shiro’s chest.

“Does— Does Lance know?” Keith manages.

“Of course he does,” Allura says. “His exact reaction was something along the lines of ‘please step on me’.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s Lance.”

“How did the landlord thing go?” she presses on.

Keith straightens up, nodding to Shiro’s brothers in greetings, glancing at Shiro, too, with a smile on his lips, before he turns again to Allura.

“Well, we’ve both agreed not to renew the lease once it ends.”

Allura looks utterly worried and Shiro is somewhat glad Keith isn’t looking at him right now – he can’t help his own expression to sour at the idea of Keith getting into any more troubles and stress. 

“Aw c’mon,” Keith says when Allura balks after he tells her his contract ends this December. “I wanted to move out for months now. I don’t want to live on that douche’s property anymore.”

“But that’s just a month from now!”

“That’s the point! The sooner the better.”

“Keith, where are you going to live?” Shiro asks, frowning.

He shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. “If I don’t find a place I can afford I could ask Lance to let me crash at his place for a bit until I do. It’s really not the first time.”

Ryou stares at Shiro, his eyes digging holes in Shiro’s head. They have never quite believed in the telepathic connection between twins but right now Shiro can practically hear Ryou’s thoughts in his head.

_Offer to live at your place._

Shiro stubbornly looks away, his thumb rubbing circles into the small of Keith’s back as Allura and he keep bantering about the landlord, Kuron listening to them attentively. In minutes, they have a whole plan laid out in front of them of how to move Keith’s stuff and how to coax Lance into agreeing should Keith not find a new place quickly enough.

It takes Ryou’s impatient and a really frustrated whine to get everyone moving. Tonight, it’s his turn to be the designated driver and Ryou’s pretty and sleek black Mustang is already flashing its headlights at their approach. Keith whistles at the sight of the car and is the first one to slip inside, claiming the spot in the middle of the backseats as Shiro settles by his left and Allura by his right, Kuron claiming shotgun and Ryou grinning from ear to ear as he starts the engine and lets it rev with power.

“You’re awfully cocky for a cop,” Keith says to him.

“That’s just my charm,” Ryou purrs, “but I’m always watching, don’t you worry, Keith.”

“I didn’t mean it as a good thing,” Keith deadpans. Ryou whines again, clearly heartbroken. Shiro has to bite down his lips to stop himself from snorting out loud. He still lets out a sound and Allura leans over Keith to share a glance with him, a grin on her lips.

“Ouch, Keith,” Ryou manages. “You’ve quite a mouth on you.”

“I sure do.”

“Shiro sure likes that, huh?”

Shiro, cheeks immediately flushed, kicks Ryou’s seat. “Ryou, shut up and drive.”

Keith glances at him, a little smirk on his pink lips. Shiro promptly looks away, muttering a soft curse under his nose as he watches the evening Arus brim with colours as they drive towards the restaurant Ryou and Kuron have picked for tonight.

The evening clearly promises to be something Shiro will remember for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sugar daddy shiro gives keith [ this moleskine](https://lv.moleskine.com/en/sketchbook-red/p0436)


	17. sounds of laughter, shades of life

Shiro is in trouble. Keith has a choker looped around his pale neck and the simple red shirt has a deep, curving neckline that rests just below Keith’s collarbones, teasing the flesh Shiro really, really wants to kiss.

Thus, caught off-guard and long lost in yearning, he has ended up half-hard the first time he’s seen Keith out of his layers of winter wear. They’ve barely found their booked table at the restaurant and this... happened. Shiro has to be very stealthy not to weird everyone out since his pants are tight and cling to him, leaving almost no room for imagination. His whole outfit is somewhat exposing and tight like that, with a dark grey shirt and that faux leather jacket Ryou insisted he’d wear as a combo with the rest.

Whatever sex appeal Ryou has been urging him to display really isn't happening. Shiro slouches and shimmies around awkwardly until he claims a seat, heart thundering as he can't help but gaze at Keith sitting beside him and chatting merrily with Kuron. It only makes it worse, the faint scent of Keith’s sandalwood-and-vanilla wash reaching Shiro’s senses and going straight to his dick.

It may have been months of yearning now but Shiro has never lost control like this before.

Shiro turns away from Keith to glare at his twin sitting opposite from him, who looks pleased like a cat and waves his hand at Shiro shamelessly as if knowing of Shiro’s predicament. Shiro can only grunt in reply, plotting sweet revenge on his brother the moment the night is done. Allura, Kuron, and Keith watch them with their brows raised high, somewhat amused by the whole display. Shiro, aware of their attention, decides to protest against giving more food for Ryou’s dark delights and buries his nose in the menu.

“So this place is really nice,” Allura says after an awkward pause, admiring the flower arrangement at their table and their surroundings. Keith and Kuron eagerly join in discussing it with her.

The restaurant turned out to impress even Shiro, who’s already biased and only likes “The Lion’s Diner” but this place... has its charm, at the very least. It's light and spacious and is more of a garden than anything else with the whole floral theme going on, and the many patrons here tonight seem well-behaved and clearly well-off in the world. It's not a place Shiro would typically go to eat but it’s an evening out together with people he cares for so Shiro doesn’t mind the slightly overpriced foods and the required classy dress code he was forced to abide to yet still make it fit into the Ryou’s idea of a good outfit.

A careful glance at Keith. How does he manage to make a pair of simple grey pants and that clingy maroon red shirt look so good? Shiro pouts, eyes once again drawn to that distracting black choker, though now he also notices a bracelet on Keith’s wrist and an occasional ring adorning his slim fingers.

To say Keith looks good is not even remotely enough.

To say that the blooming flowers and vines and all kinds of beautiful plants that decorate the restaurant in elaborate arrangements and are quite pleasing to the eye pale before Keith is— almost getting there.

Shiro sneaks another look at the artist’s bared nape, his messy bun held in place by the red band, and nearly whines out loud. He really has come here unprepared, so he tries to hyperfocus on reading the menu instead of thinking of all the things he wants to do to Keith.

It’s almost as if everything today starting with his brothers and ending with that stupid sexy choker has conspired against Shiro, forcing him to feel increasingly more flustered and embarrassed with each hour. Patience may be one of his stronger fortes but it’s _Keith_ and all the patience Shiro might have had has been used up in all the years spent and lived without Keith, waiting to meet him, yearning without quite knowing what and who for.

“It’s a nice idea, overall,” Keith is saying to Allura as they all follow Shiro’s example and start to flip through the menu. “It must take them lots of time and effort to maintain all the plants, though.”

“It feels like we’re in a garden,” Kuron grins. “Even the windows and the glass ceiling make it more immersive.”

“Hah, whoever had to clean all that snow from the roof—“ Ryou raises a glass of water. “My respects, soldier.”

They all raise a glass, too.

“Anyone wants some good old pancakes or it’s just me?” Shiro asks after flipping through the menu a couple of times but still returning to the page with various pancake fillings.

Keith leans over and gets a look at the page. Shiro lags, bad, at the close proximity, but still angles the menu so it’s more comfortable for Keith to read.

“Oh, cranberry pancakes? I love those,” Keith grins.

“Sweet tooth,” Shiro says. “How about a whole plate of those?”

“Sold.”

“Are you two honestly going to eat only the pancakes?” Allura asks, somewhat amused. She’s selected a small course of dumpling soup and chicken marsala, while Kuron has gone for his favourite fish and chips and Ryou can’t decide between beef stroganoff and salmon fillet.

Shiro and Keith look at each other then Shiro hesitantly says, “Maybe a bit of chocolate and apple ones, too?”

“Mhm.”

Allura sighs. “Now I want something sweet, too.”

“Don’t you have Lance already?” Ryou draws out only to earn a long-deserved smack on the head.

“Manners.”

“But Ally—“

“Do you not have a filter on your mouth?!”

“But it’s true— OW!”

Shiro has never felt better watching his twin getting walloped in his life but Allura is a force to be reckoned with and Ryou has had it coming the entire day.

“Honestly, out of all of you Shiroganes only Kuron is a well-mannered one!” Allura fumes.

“Aw thanks,” Kuron beams.

“Oh, I don’t have manners now?” Shiro pouts.

Keith gives him a sideways glance. “Scarcely.”

“W- What’s that supposed to mean?”

Keith gives him a look then returns to selecting a drink for himself, leaving Shiro somewhat flustered by the heat he glimpsed behind the violet eyes.

He returns to his menu with more focus than before, trying to pace out his breathing and calm his frantic, foolish little heart.

 

The evening gets gradually better with the arrival of food. Previously quiet Kuron stuffs himself up and now, full of energy, he can’t seem to shut up, managing to hold conversation flowing when Ryou and Allura would still butt their heads (lovingly, of course) on the subject of Lance, or every time Ryou would try to provoke Keith only to get shamelessly teased in return.

Shiro does indeed like Keith’s mouth but he’s never seen Keith go off like that, without any holdbacks putting Ryou back in place, often taking Allura’s side in their arguments. And Ryou tries really hard to get to him, often borderline flirting. That gets Shiro’s blood boiling every time as he clenches at his fork and knife and digs deep into his pancake.

Keith, however, remains indifferent to Ryou’s words, sometimes pointedly leaning closer to Shiro and once even throwing his arm casually around the back of Shiro’s chair. Ryou has taken note of that, his lips slowly curling into a naughty little smirk.

If Shiro hasn’t been so preoccupied in savouring Keith’s warmth he might have reached over the table to wipe that annoying smirk off of Ryou’s face. Good to have one’s priorities figured out. He only keeps his brother in check with witty remarks and an occasional glare but thankfully Allura has managed to knock some sense into Ryou’s head before. Ryou no longer pushes too far... yet he still seeks trouble on his head.

So it is quite a shock when it is Kuron who actually supports Ryou’s teasing quip aimed at Allura.

“Honestly, how long do you know Lance?”

“Since I’ve moved into my apartment. We’re neighbours for almost four years now.”

“So, you’ve dated Lotor for some time, right?”

“...Right?”

“And then you broke up with him say uh— nine months ago?”

“Almost ten, actually,” Shiro corrects, pointedly stirring his cup of latte. Allura gives him a look.

“Well, yes, but what this has to do with—“

Kuron leans on his elbows where he’s sitting at the head of the table, his expression both amused and somewhat expectant as he stares at puzzled Allura.

“All that time living next to Lance – whom you've clearly liked for a while now and it is obviously returned – and neither of you tried to ask the other on a date. How can that be?”

Kuron glances at Shiro and he blushes, remembering the same way and tone with which his younger brother has roasted him about Keith earlier today. Kuron is really out here tonight to fuck them all over, isn’t he?

Ever so subtly, Shiro shimmies closer to Keith at the pretence of reaching to take another pancake off of their plate. Keith, amused by the turn the conversation around the table has taken, unconsciously shifts a little closer into Shiro’s space and whispers into his ear,

“Your little brother has some balls calling Allura out like this, doesn’t he?”

Shiro chuckles. “He knows he’s Allura’s favourite. He got away with worse things and Allura still adores him.”

“I thought Allura likes you more. You’re her best friend, after all.”

Shiro looks Keith in the eyes, basking in the warmth he finds in his gaze. “This is precisely why I’m not her favourite. I know too much.”

Keith snorts, his gaze falling to Shiro’s lips briefly before he looks back to Allura, currently quite flustered under the joined assault of the younger Shiroganes trying to dare her to call Lance right here and now and ask him out on a date.

Keith’s grip on his cup of black coffee is strong to the point of his knuckles going white despite the hot beverage no doubt burning his skin. Allura, pushed to her limits and competitive, always hellbent on keeping up with Shiro and his brothers, gets up from the table, eyes aflame, and storms off with her phone in her hand.

“Did you really have to upset Allura so much?” Shiro asks with an exhausted sigh but his companions shush him as all three turn in their seats and watch her pace around the relatively secluded area with clematis vines climbing the archways above Allura’s head. She looks nervous and after staring at her phone for a good couple of moments, she takes a deep breath and dials.

“Is she— actually doing it?” Keith asks with tension in his voice. They are too far away to hear what she’s saying but her embarrassed expression is enough to understand. “No, wait, SHE’S DOING IT!”

Keith is wide-eyed watching Allura blush furiously as she talks over the phone for a while and giggles briefly before hanging up and, beaming, she returns to their table, flipping her phone in her hand and cocking her hip as she levels Ryou and Kuron with victory in her eyes.

“All set. We’re going on a date tomorrow.”

“Congratulations, Allura,” Shiro grins, getting up to sweep her into a tight hug. She hides her face in his chest and Shiro swears he hears her let out a whimper. At that same moment, Keith’s phone goes off with a faintly familiar rock song and he scrambles to get it out of his pants' front pocket, arching his hips up to reach it. Shiro has to look somewhere else.

“It’s Lance,” Keith mutters before answering rather hoarsely. There’s faint yelling on the other side. “Lance, uh, yeah- Can you not ye—“

Keith holds his phone away from his ear and the distinctive _Allura has asked me out on a date!!!_ carries over from the dynamics. Allura peeks up, glances at Keith who looks at her with an apologetic grimace and offers an awkward shrug. Allura buries her face in Shiro’s chest again, her shoulders shaking faintly.

Keith attempts to calm his own best friend but they all can hear Lance’s excitement as he rants to Keith, bellowing and hooraying on the other end of the line. Allura lets out another whine and Keith finally deems it necessary to mention to Lance that they all can hear him.

The line grows quiet and then Lance says something and blush breaks across Keith’s skin. He murmurs he’ll call him later and hangs up.

“What did he say?” Allura emerges again.

“Uh— Lance’s asked me to tell you that you’re the most beautiful girl in the universe and he can’t wait to see you tomorrow,” Keith manages awkwardly, that same blush not quite leaving his cheeks.

Allura has to cover her face with her hands but everyone can see her wide smile and flushed skin, even the tips of her ears appear to be affected.

“I’m not sure if I should trash my brothers or kiss them for making this happen,” Shiro laughs out loud when he returns to his seat, Ryou once again at it teasing Allura though now it is heartfelt and kind. Kuron looks pleased, too, his chin resting in his palm as he watches Allura with warmth in his eyes.

“I still can’t believe this,” Keith says quietly, still holding his phone in his hands as if it anchors him. “They. Are. Going. Out. On. A. Date.”

“Take your time. Let it sink in.”

“Wait-- Allura?”

“Yes, Keith?”

“It’s a _date_ date, right?”

She may have recovered enough to appear composed but Keith’s question gets to her. “Um—Yeah. A date. A uh— romantic one.”

Ryou hoots some more but Shiro is more concerned watching Keith sigh in relief and fall back into his seat.

“You’re really invested in this, aren’t you?”

Keith offers a slow shrug. “I am, it’s not some big news, after all. Just—for a moment there I’ve imagined a scenario where they both think it’s just going out as friends.”

“Like the Pacific Rim marathon has turned out to be?” A nod. “I see your point.”

While Shiro and Keith grow quiet, the two watch Allura and Shiro’s brothers fool around, all three celebrating the long-awaited development yet not shy from teasing. Shiro is warm and happy and Keith is right there by his side, sipping on his coffee and occasionally exchanging a few remarks with him. In all honesty, Shiro could gladly spend the entire evening in this merry atmosphere...

...though as it turns out, Kuron has different plans.

About half an hour after Allura has asked Lance out on a date Kuron’s focus shifts to Shiro and Keith. Keith is blissfully unaware of it but to Shiro it’s evident the moment Kuron leans over to whisper something to Ryou and then both of his brothers look at Shiro and Keith sitting opposite from them, something naughty and mischievous in their eyes.

“Hey Shiro—“ Kuron begins, innocence incarnate. “Don’t you have something you really want to give to Keith?”

Keith, “Huh?”

Shiro is torn between glaring at Kuron and wanting to run. He absolutely did not plan on giving the sketchbook to Keith in public and hoped Kuron lets the topic slide for the time being. Apparently, he's judged his brother wrong.

“It's not the right time, Kuron.”

“You’ve promised me, remember?”

“Just what exactly are you two taking about?” Keith asks with a frown on his face. Shiro sighs and gets up to grab the gift from the pocket in his coat. At some point while he wasn't looking – probably while he showered - his brothers had managed to wrap the Moleskine and the art supplies kit in simple fashion, clearly having found the stash of gift-wrapping supplies Shiro keeps. It looks somewhat endearing and cute. If Shiro hasn't known better he'd think his brothers were actually looking out for him, no ulterior motive whatsoever. Luckily, he knows his brothers are onto him.

Now, Shiro takes a deep breath, much aware of the unwavering attention of his companions and the burning gaze of the violet eyes on him, and with just a touch trembling hands he presents the package to Keith.

“I hope you'll like this,” he manages, flushed and looking down.

With careful movements, Keith unwraps the gift and lets out a sharp _oh_ that gets Shiro like a blow to his chest. Allura is peaking over curiously, her gaze softening at the sight. She shoots Shiro a subtle, encouraging glance and leans back, smiling as Keith runs his fingers over the pressed stars on the smooth red surface of the sketchbook and the quote, then notices the small kit and it takes a single look inside to get the previously rosy-pink cheeks flush a much darker shade.

“Shiro, that's—”

Keith seems quite speechless but the strength returns to Shiro, himself.

“I thought you'd like a uh- a lightweight drawing kit. You know, so that you could draw on the go without having to carry an entire backpack of supplies along with you.”

Shiro stammered through the half of the sentence, weak before the fire in Keith's eyes when he tears his gaze away from the gift and meets Shiro’s. He almost looks like he's about to kiss Shiro again but instead, startled by Ryou's remark and Kuron's quiet reply, he only bites down his lip hard and, still quite flushed, murmurs his thanks. A curtain of hair falls over his eyes as Keith looks down again, hiding from everyone as his slender fingers gently caress the sketchbook's cover.

“Keith, have a look inside,” Kuron urges rather impatiently.

As far as Shiro knows, it should be just blank pages ready to be painted on but when Keith opens the Moleskine, a grin cracks across his face.

“Aw, thanks. Is that Shorter?”

“Yes! Doesn't look much like him, does he?”

Shiro peaks over and grins at a whole page filled with doodles. He recognises Kuron's and Ryou's hands and the small, too well-executed drawing of a cartoonish pup must belong to Allura. Keith spends his time admiring the handiwork though Ryou points out the blank space left on the page and suggestively wiggles his brows at Shiro. Keith, too, looks at Shiro and pushes the Moleskine invitingly to him, as well as offering the kit with art supplies.

“Please, draw something, too,” Keith says and Shiro immediately gives in.

He's not that good with drawing, especially since his dominant arm is a bionic one and while he has learned to do most of the things with his left hand, Shiro has never quite mastered drawing with it. In fact, he may have never tried. Now, he still goes to draw with his artificial hand and Keith gives him a respectful berth of privacy as he works, tongue sticking out so focused he is.

“...This pen is really nice,” Shiro muses after a few moments. Allura, who has been admiring the contents of the kit together with Keith, actually snickers.

“You really did pick all the best stuff for Keith. Did someone help you choose?” she coos teasingly.

_Oh for fuck's sake._

Shiro, unable to lie, confesses he did a lot of research before buying.

To Keith, that is quite something. He stares at Shiro, almost unnervingly quiet but his skin prickles under the intense gaze.

“I just wanted to give you something nice,” Shiro finally mumbles.

“You’re— always giving me the nicest things,” Keith says quietly, though it doesn’t help to hide the tremble in his voice. “I'm—thank. You. Shiro. Thank you.”

Someone actually whimpers on the other side of the table. Shiro is too busy trying and failing to draw a rose for Keith. He always has something red about him, be it his bike or his phone case or even his hair band. Shiro doesn't have anything red to render the petals with (that kit is strictly black & white) but he still assumes that this rose is red, therefore, it really fits Keith.

There are flower arrangements on every table at the restaurant and Shiro can’t help but imagine going on a date with Keith here and plucking one of the roses from the vase and weaving it into Keith’s silky hair. He’d love to watch Keith's cheeks bloom with colour as he'd shy away from Shiro's adoration at first but would eventually give in and tuck a flower behind Shiro's ear, too. They’d kiss for a long while without a care if anyone is watching. Keith would be sweet on his tongue and fierce, biting down Shiro’s lip with fire in his gaze that would immediately make Shiro want to ask for the receipt and take Keith home.

Mind wondering about, Shiro really doesn't let himself overthink Keith's loss of composure. He's just really pleased with the gift. The waver and the stuttering are surely related to that.

Shiro dares a single look.

Keith's fingers toy with the space-themed charm absentmindedly as he watches Allura line up all the pens and fineliners and Copics, both artists visibly in awe as they admire the arrangement and discuss making swatches for each item. Shiro hasn't even considered how much it would mean for an artist to get their favourite or admired brand as a gift but it seems that Shiro, out of pure luck, has guessed some of Keith's long-wanted items.

With a few final lines, Shiro finishes the rose. It's more or less decent, given he has a reference right in front of him in form of a pale pink bloom. Keith's delighted laughter carries over the table, the voices of their companions – family, both blood and found – whisk whatever worries there are away bit by bit until all Shiro truly sees is how much he loves them all.

Love. Familiar, friendly, romantic...

There are little wisps of golden light dancing in the air, the reflected light and the splashes of colour of flowers in bloom decorating the restaurant and the wide smiles and sparkling eyes of the people Shiro loves – all of it makes him so happy to be alive his heart aches.

It's almost tangible. Just reach out and cup your hands and it will pour into them like liquid starlight.

Shiro looks at Keith and he meets his gaze half-way, so open and merry yet vulnerable. Ryou's suggestion of marriage echoes in his mind and it all unravels before him. A path, walked hand in hand with Keith.

Shiro grins back, blinking sudden tears out of his eyes and scribbles below the drawing of the rose.

_You really are my favourite artist._

♥ _, S._

Keith doesn't get to see what Shiro has doodled for him until later, however, since Kuron, who has been docile again for about a quarter of an hour, lit up with another antic of his. With an ahem and an artistic movement of his wrist, Kuron takes out two pieces of paper out of his jacket's pocket, grinning broadly as he slides them towards Shiro.

“What’s that?” he asks, picking the papers up.

“Ever heard of the Nah-Veer Five Convention?”

“Sounds nerdy,” Ryou quips, earning a shove from Kuron.

“It might be. It's one of the largest sci-fi fan conventions around here and that's,” Kuron points at the paper in Shiro's hands, “two tickets there. Courtesy of my college.”

“Oh? Don't you want to go there yourself?”

Kuron makes a dramatic sigh, slumping in his seat. “Sometimes it seems my efforts aren't appreciated one bit.  Besides, I’m more of a fantasy nerd rather than sci-fi nerd.”

Keith peeks over Shiro's shoulder to have a look at the name, then, as if something catches his eye, he quickly punches in a google search into his phone.

“Oh—Shiro, you must go.”

Keith shows him a more elaborate convention advertisement and points at the guests' list. Shiro immediately recognises the name of the writer whose books Keith has been lending him to read, excitement bubbling inside of him. Keith climbs out from the table to get to his jacket, and when he returns there’s the third book of the series Keith’s promised to give to Shiro. He grins taking it, running his finger over the title, then flips through the book to find the photo of the author at the end.

“He’s doing a whole panel at the con but,” Shiro stops, “isn't he a fantasy writer?”

“He did some space opera type of sci-fi novels, too,” Keith explains, pointing at the “other works” section below the man’s short biography. “I’ve never heard of him going to conventions these years.” In answer to Shiro's puzzled look, Keith elaborates. “He’s quite old.”

“So it's quite possible this might be his last con before he bites the dust?” Ryou muses. “You two nerds must go, then.”

“Wh-“ Shiro begins but Kuron promptly cuts him off.

“It’s two tickets. Apparently you both like some author dude-“ “Hey! He's a damn genious!” “—so it's like- fate or something.”

“Kuron, what are you getting at.”

“I mean, I'm pretty sure it's a nice convention and there's something you both,” a gesture pointing at the perplexed and confused Shiro and Keith, “can quite possibly enjoy nerding out at together. So, knock yourselves out. My treat.”

Shiro, “Do you want to go with me, Keith?”

Keith pauses, as if the possibility that Shiro would invite him along hasn’t occurred to him before. He frowns under Kuron’s expectant (and quite demanding) stare but his gaze softens when he looks at Shiro again. “That would be great. Thank you, Shiro.”

Shiro beams and hands him the ticket, his heart fluttering as Keith tucks it away into his new sketchbook, smiling softly, too.

The tender moment is broken when Shiro disentangles himself from the pull of Keith’s happy form and remembers they aren’t quite alone right now.

Allura has her mouth covered with her delicate hand as she watches the scene unfold, sparks of delight in her cyan eyes. Ryou is straight out hollering but it is Kuron who looks most pleased, offering Shiro a slow, naughty smirk that is more suitable for Ryou but looks quite impactful on the usually sweet and innocent Kuron.

“Alright, alright, whatever it is you're up to, Kuron, I'm onto you now,” Shiro says grumpily though on the inside he can't quite stop his heart thudding against his ribcage.

_Stop acting like it's the end of the world. I want to help._

Suddenly, Kuron's odd behaviour yesterday and today makes sense. There is little to no way a med student could get tickets to a sci-fi con from his college. It is quite possible Kuron had to pull a few favours just to get a hold on those convention tickets.

All this trouble because Shiro is completely useless in romance and clearly couldn't come up with anything like this to share with Keith on his own.

Shiro, full of affection, leans over the table and grabs Kuron by the back of his neck, Kuron easily leaning in until their foreheads touch and Shiro murmurs his thanks in their ancestral tongue. Ryou sighs exasperatedly and gets up to circle their table and hugs Shiro and Kuron, scooping them both in close by the shoulders. There are brilliant tears in the corners of Kuron's eyes when the brothers finally pull apart.

“You guys almost make me wish I had a sibling,” Keith says with a soft smile on his lips.

Shiro, with a smile, “Don’t you have a certain Lance for a brother?”

“Touché.” A contemplative pause. “He’s probably panicking over his date with Allura now.”

“He won't be the only one panicking,” Allura murmurs quietly, though there is genuine happiness in her eyes when Keith looks at her with brotherly affection and offers his encouragement, too. Allura flushes some more when she realises just how much Keith supports the two of them though Shiro can see the moment Keith and Allura bond over their affection (albeit of different kinds) towards Lance.

 

Somewhere along the evening they order another course of food, though it's mostly ice cream and a whole pot of some fancy tea with flower petals swimming in the tea pot. Some moment along the evening, Allura asks Shiro to go dance with him. They find their way to the dance floor, a small indoors fountain adorned with climbing vines that somehow bloom regardless of what time of year it is being the central piece of decoration there. Shiro can’t help but chuckle but it is nice here and Allura shines as they move slowly along the soft music that plays over the speakers. They are far away from their table and there are a few other pairs dancing along with them but Allura sighs and turns to rest her head against Shiro's chest.

“This has turned out to be one hell of an evening, hasn't it?” Shiro murmurs into her voluminous hair.

“Mhm. You finally have a reason to go on a trip with Keith, huh?”

“It’s just a town over.”

“It’s a long journey, regardless,” Allura says looking up into Shiro's face. “You’ll have to stay the night at the Nah-Veer's motel. Share a room, most probably, since the town will be full with folks from the convention—”

This-- hasn't occurred to Shiro before. He feels his skin grow hot beneath his clothing.

“I—I don't think anything would happen—”

“Who says anything is supposed to happen?” She pauses, searching Shiro's face. “Do you want for something to happen?”

Shiro bashfully looks away. Allura grins, playfully elbowing him, then as the song ends swiftly steps out from Shiro's hands. Behind her, he sees Keith awkwardly standing on the edges of the dance floor. Allura gives him a brilliant smile and tugs him on the dance floor, pushing Keith into Shiro’s hands.

“Dance, you two,” she says and neither has the heart to protest. Allura’s mood has improved greatly and Lance’s nickname “Princess” for her comes to Shiro’s mind. She really is one, regal and shining and so kind, yet her authority runs unchallenged. Keith doesn’t protest when Shiro pulls him closer, hands resting on his slim waist. He still watches above Keith’s head Allura throw thumbs up at them, though when Keith turns to look where Shiro is looking she scrambles and runs. They still can see her shoulders shaking with laughter as she makes her way back to Ryou and Kuron.

“What’s up with them all today?” Keith murmurs.

“I wish I could tell you.”

Keith pouts, tugging Shiro a little closer and taking the lead, taking Shiro’s flesh hand in his. It’s not much of a dance, really, just moving together along the quiet music, and it is different to the way how they’ve danced at Keith’s birthday. Hardly touching, Shiro still burns with intensity between them, Keith’s fingers strong and holding him tight. Keith’s gaze never leaves Shiro’s, hard and unwavering.

Shiro wants to say something to ease the tension but words elude him. It is Keith who breaks the silence, with a short and sharp, “Thank you for the rose.”

Shiro immediately flushes. “I hope it isn’t that bad.”

“It’s nice, Shiro. You really can draw well.”

“Occasionally—“

Keith rolls his eyes, offering a little smirk. “I still stand by my words – you can draw if you set your mind to it.” His gaze falls down to where Shiro’s prosthetic rests on his waist. “I’m impressed your arm can pull off a task like that, though.”

“The tech isn’t without its faults but yeah,” Shiro looks down at it, too, wavering a little at how big his hand truly is on Keith’s slender waist. “I’ve never drawn with it before but I guess since I can use it to write then I might as well be able to draw, too.”

“Like you definitely struggled with folding paper?”

“Mhm. Random things like that.” Shiro lets his artificial arm apply more pressure to Keith’s waist, prompting his eyes to widen just a fraction. “Pressure control is something I have to think through before I do anything. With a flesh hand you do it unconsciously, your body knowing what to do without your intervention.”

Shiro moves his metal fingers, digging briefly into Keith’s flesh – not hard enough to leave a mark but with just enough strength for Keith to feel it – then releases him, his palm once again resting gently on Keith’s waist. “Even a movement like this I have to think through before doing. I’m continuously teaching my arm and my brain to work together. It’s— a WIP, I suppose.”

“Don’t you need to calibrate it from time to time? Look for bugs or something,” Keith says a little hoarsely but there’s genuine curiosity in his eyes.

“Matt and Pidge are my resident tech experts,” Shiro grins, “though it’s their dad who’s designed this arm. Oh. Which reminds me—“

“What?”

Shiro can’t help his expression to sour, “He wanted to see me next week.”

“Don’t like your arm getting poked?” Keith asks with a tease, poking his arm.

Shiro laughs and catches his fingers, bringing them back to rest on his waist. Keith’s palm is hot, burning through the thin fabric of Shiro’s shirt. “Absolutely not. It feels— weird. Wires and open panels and what not.”

“Is it painful?”

“A little,” Shiro replies honestly. Keith’s face falls at his admittance so he hurries to add, “You get used to it after a while.”

“I’m sorry,” Keith whispers. Shiro wants to protest at the loss of contact when Keith lifts his hand again from Shiro’s waist but he can only exhale sharply watching Keith lift Shiro’s bionic hand to his pink lips and plant a chaste, gentle kiss to his silver knuckles. Shiro is half-aware of Sleeping At Last coming up next on the playlist but he brushes the idle thought off, busy staring at Keith.

Shiro doesn’t get much time to recover and before he knows it Keith rises on his toes and kisses him on the cheek. The scent of vanilla and sandalwood hits Shiro hard and he’s stunned again but it is in a pleasant way, not shocked but basking in the tenderness with which Keith treats him.

 “You’re a good person, Shiro,” Keith whispers softly into Shiro’s ear. “I don’t think this arm makes you any less. More, even.”

Violet eyes gaze back at him, brows knit together, expectant.

“Keith—“ He can’t help but scoop Keith in close, damn the dance. There’s so much trust in Keith’s eyes as he lets Shiro’s bionic fingers rest on the pale column of his neck, that choker once again drawing Shiro’s gaze. Shiro bites down his lip and dips his head to plant a soft peck to the smooth skin of Keith’s cheek.

“You’re the good one,” he says quietly, not daring to move away.

It is Keith who leans all the rest of the way into his embrace and now – now it really is almost like it was on Keith’s birthday. They resume their unhurried movement to _Saturn_ , holding each other, breathing each other in.

Then, Keith begins to hum along the lyrics and Shiro kisses his cheek again, not really caring that his brothers and Allura watch them, all three grinning from ear to ear. Shiro only acknowledges them by flipping the bird at them and it gets Keith laughing breathlessly and his brothers finally snapping. Together with Allura, they all head to the dance floor, crowding in on Shiro and Keith and all five end up laughing and dancing together. Someone from the staff notices their little party and puts on a more energetic song and ups the volume and before Shiro knows it he’s hoarse from laughing and hugging everyone and he can’t help but grin at Keith.

It doesn’t take anyone long to put Kuron into the centre of their group and it takes him even less time to go from laughing to crying he doesn’t want to go back to college. Shiro’s heart swells when Keith consoles his baby brother, promising to teach him how to draw Shorter and any other character Kuron asks for, and even Ryou has to blink back tears as he watches them, Allura smiling as she stands by his side.

Somehow, they all end up a heap of half-sobbing, half-laughing messes. They split the bill and leave the garden-restaurant with their hearts light, if a little sad at Kuron’s departure tomorrow, but if Kuron is grinning again then so do the rest.

Keith holds his Moleskine in his hands throughout the ride home and Shiro caresses the book he’s given him, too, wondering of meeting the author together with Keith, wondering if they could even get him to sign one of the books. It’s something Shiro knows Keith would love to do, so he can’t help but begin to plan for the trip already.

Kuron is chatting happily now, finally having let go of whatever concerns he’d had during the evening, and Ryou is tolerable (more or less) – even Allura points it out.

No one wants the day to end, so they all go to Shiro’s place and end up playing video games till two in the morning until Allura’s horrified “I have a date with Lance tomorrow!” prompts Ryou to fulfil his promise to drive everyone home and grumpily he complies, Keith leaving together with them, but not before Allura and he offer Kuron tight hugs and wish him a safe flight.

With them gone, Kuron exhales, scratching at his head awkwardly as Shiro holds the purring Black in his hands.

“So what was this whole thing today about?” Shiro asks, eyes narrowed.

Kuron only shrugs. “I have no idea what are you talking about.”

“The tickets?”

“Are from my college.”

“And so is the bet to get Allura to ask Lance out on a date, right?”

Kuron blushes. “That was—Ryou’s idea.”

“He’s not that clever, Kuron, and you know it.”

He snorts. “Don’t let him hear you say that, Ta.”

Shiro steps around his baby brother, still suspicious. “Is there something else you’ve done I should know about?”

Kuron’s lips curl, baring his healthy white teeth. “Not at the moment, no.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand here we go. no rest for Shiro, not even on his birthday ♥  
> on the side note i've 200h to work in march so idk if i'll update soon or not. i still think on WEB every day, trying to come up with as much of self-indulgent fluff (and smut, believe me) as i can.  
> and yep, chapters have names now. i will edit the first 15 ones someday, too. see ya!


	18. here in your perfect eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’ve read “carry on” by r.rowell recently and if it wasn’t for this book none of this update would’ve happened bc my massive throbbing writer’s block has been holding me hostage for the entirety of my vacation. but we go off now.  
> say hi to the POV switches within chapters. have a cornetto if you spot a WangXian cameo.  
> also i was mid-editing this and the Notre Dame burned. like... what the hell.

**LANCE**

 

Lance's hands shake so much when he decides to do the dishes one of the plates slips out of his grasp and with an obnoxiously loud sound crashes to the floor, pieces of ceramic skittering all over.

“Well, that's just marvellous,” Keith says from the couch, watching Lance go butt up trying to collect the shards with his bare hands.

“Why do you think I've asked you to come over?” Lance mutters, picking the biggest chunk and carefully putting the smaller shards onto it. “I'm so nervous I can't human anymore.”

“You'll be fine, Lance,” Keith says reassuringly. “It’s not your first rodeo, after all.”

“But it is _Allura_. I feel like a blushing virgin and it's... it's so fucking embarra— Ow!”

Lance sucks his cut finger into his mouth, tears immediately prickling his eyes.

“You’re a baby, Lance. Big, silly goofball of a baby,” Keith says as he gets up and disappears into the bathroom, then comes back with the first aid kit Lance keeps stashed under the sink there.

Lance pouts when his finger stings as Keith cleans the wound. “I’m just- nervous. What if I mess things up? What if Allura won't like it today? What if-“

“Shut your anxiety up, Lance,” Keith snaps rather harshly but then immediately looks like he regrets his outburst, his gaze softening. Keith makes quick work of bandaging the cut but still fails to hide his eyes aflame, smouldering with deep emotion that leaks into his voice as he speaks. “You just have to be some blind fool in love not to see your feelings are reciprocated. Everything will be fine today.”

Lance mutters his thanks as Keith cleans up and zips the kit back up, then quickly throws away the remaining shards of the broken plate, huffing along the way.

“I’m just—I don't want to mess it up. I won't forgive myself if I mess it up.”

“You _won't,_ ” Keith crosses his hands over his chest as he leans against the counter and glares at him. “Just relax and be yourself.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Oh, you think Allura isn't nervous?”Keith really is angry now, jaw working. “You should've seen her yesterday after she'd asked you out – which maybe was something you should've down months ago, don't you think?”

“Oh right, have a go at me now, wingman,” Lance bites back, too. “Do you even know how it's like to completely lock up every time you try?”

Keith freezes, his mouth opening as if words are ready to spill but Lance sees the hurt in his eyes. Slowly, Keith falls back against the counter, his back prone and shoulders squared, always ready to fight, but it is still evident Lance’s quip has hurt him and he knows he shouldn’t have said anything like that. Not when things between Keith and Shiro are so vulnerable, peace being rebuilt tentatively with hesitant, shy gestures. Not when Keith is a coiled spring, always busy working through whatever the inner struggle falling in love with Shiro has caused.

Lance can only imagine it. It’s still not right to act like a dick about it.

“Keith, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re right. How would someone like me know?”

Lance whines like a kicked dog. “Keith—“

He shakes his head, avoiding looking at Lance. Keith hurting is one of the worst sights Lance has ever seen, and now it is his fault. Something sinks inside Lance’s chest at the sight, cold and icy. It makes him nauseous.

“I didn’t mean to imply that. I know things aren’t going easy for you now, Keith. I can’t imagine how it must feel like. I’m so sorry I’ve said that.”

“Stop apologising,” Keith snaps. “It’s my own damn fault to be scared of—of—“ He throws his hands up in frustration, turning his back to Lance.

He can’t help but put his hand on Keith’s shoulder, squeezing it gently and remaining respectfully silent though his grip is still a firm reassurance of a close friend.

“I wasn’t—ready,” Keith speaks after a long silence. Lance has managed to develop a black hole inside his chest over that time, spewing dread over the light it has sucked out. “After living for so long with almost no interest in other people and then— Shiro. Just waltzed into my life with his bare ass out and all that I’ve thought of myself is turned upside down now.”

Lance allows a small chuckle. “Must be some mighty fine ass, then.”

Keith grunts, sinking to rest his weight on his elbows as the boys gaze outside Lance’s kitchen window.

After another pause. “It wasn’t just the ass, though.”

“I know. You definitely ogled his tiddies, too.”

“Lance—“

“Alright, alright!” Lance’s gaze softens when he notices the faint blush on Keith’s cheeks. Oh, he definitely ogled them, alright. However, Lance tries to be a good friend and for once he allows his masterful teasing to rest. “You fell in love with him and things changed, I get it, Keith. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed. I’m scared that I still may not be—interested. In, you know—”

“In having sex?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll never know if you don’t give it a try with Shiro. You’ve already told me you like it when he touches you. It’s already a big step.”

“It’s not—We’ve never touched in a sexual context. It’s different. I’m not sure if I’d be able to go through with it.”

Lance huffs.

“A romantic relationship isn't built on fucking alone, Keith. There's nothing wrong in not engaging in sex. Shiro is a nice guy and I'm sure he'll understand.”

“But I think I want him? All over me? But I’m still not sure this is _truly_ what I want. If it is, then I really am balls deep in love.”

“Literally,” Lance chuckles out under his breath, too quiet for Keith to catch on.

He’s too busy groaning in frustration and banging his head against the counter anyway.  Keith then curses and locks his hands over his head, whining a little. “Why is this so hard to figure out?”

Keith is so melancholy it makes Lance’s skin crawl.

Like falling in love is a bad thing. Because it isn’t. Confusing, yeah, and terrifying because you are letting a person inside your heart and it’s easy to crush it from in there.

Love isn’t bad. It’s a good thing. Joyous, light, beautiful, brave.

Lance catches himself, realising that his own fears before his date with Allura aren’t that far away from Keith’s struggle. Ultimately, they both do not want to hurt their respective significant others and act up in self-defense because it’s easier to run than stay and fight for what you love.

However, Lance knows Keith has a fighter’s heart and he himself has spent a lifetime trying to catch up with his bestie.  

“So...”  Lance touches his chin thoughtfully after a long silence. Keith turns his head enough to give him a hard, unimpressed look and Lance struggles to keep his expression serious. “You don't experience sexual attraction to people and yet you seem to have fallen in love with Shiro at the first sight and you're clearly attracted to him.”

“Well, yeah.” Keith's brows are low enough now to make Lance twitch in anticipation of messing with him.

Time to deliver the punch line.

“Then my suspicions have been correct. You're a demisexual, Keith. Or Shiro-sexual in this case.” Keith is silent, staring at him. Lance pales. “You know what demisexual means, right?”

“I do.”

“Good! Then, what's stopping you? Go get that dick, tiger!”

Lance even throws his fists up like a cheerleader but all Keith does is to stare at him like he’s completely _loco._

Lance’s hands fall. “C’mon, Keith, give me something to work with here.”

Keith can be slow. Like, very slow. It’s taken him how many weeks to kiss Shiro again?

Well, it certainly takes the poor guy a while to get his things sorted out. Even now he needs to blink a few times before answering.

“I get it. I’m just stuck on switching the way I think of myself, I guess. It’s like coming out, okay? It's not that easy, not after years of thinking I must be broken or something but— Shiro—”

Lance immediately frowns. “You’re not broken. Ace people aren't broken. There's no such thing as broken sexuality or gender. There are rapists and abusers and child molesters but those are just twisted motherfuckers, right? Those deserve to be broken something bad. Not you.”

Keith finally offers a chuckle, somewhat delighted. “I really like it when your adult shows.”

“I prefer to think of it as a “sensible human being”. I refuse to consider myself an adult.”

Keith actually cackles at that. “You’re still younger than Allura.”

“Oh shut your pie hole, sugar boy!” Lance exclaims, immediately earning a shove.

“The fuck's that supposed to mean?!”

“You know what!”

Lance’s suggestive gaze lands on the couch where Keith has left his new prized possession, a sweet little sketchbook Shiro had given him yesterday. Keith pauses, following Lance’s eyes, mouth opening then closing then opening again. Lance can practically see him slowly connect the dots, face immediately flushing when he understands.

“MCCLAIN—!”

The boys bicker and laugh themselves hoarse until the knot of anxiety eases within Lance's chest and confidence to meet Allura fills him in generous, sweeping waves. It’s always easier to give relationship advice to others, right?

Once they both get their loads of teasing, Keith helps him nitpick his outfit and even graces Lance with styling his hair. Lance relaxes enough to actually purr beneath Keith's touch and when the time Allura and Lance have agreed upon for the date approaches, Keith hugs him really tight and wishes him good luck.

“I don't know what I did to deserve you, Keith,” Lance says as Keith puts on his coat and ties the never-changing red scarf around his neck.

“Been born,” Keith mutters. “It doesn't really take much to deserve me. I come with the free package of assholery and daddy issues.”

Lance chuckles. “It’s a great deal then.”

Keith regards Lance for a long moment and whatever he finds in Lance with his scrutinizing gaze makes a sigh escape his lips. In a single motion, he pulls Lance in for a hug, effectively off-balancing him with its suddenness, and sighs again.

“I know how much you care for Allura,” Keith says quietly. “And I know she cares for you, too. There’s nothing to be afraid of, Lance. Just be yourself and you will do alright.”

“But I forgot how to human like—just now?” Lance whines. Keith only places his hand over Lance’s chest – where the heart beats beneath and gives him a hard look.

“So what? It doesn’t have to be a perfect first date, no matter how much you’d want it to be.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“And remember, you’re not alone in this. Allura is _with you_ , not _against you_.”

“Jeez, Keith, it’s only me who’s allowed to go deep today— Wait, that didn’t sound right.”

“Yeah, it didn’t,” Keith grunts, shaking his head with pointed, hopefully pretend, disappointment.

The boys pause again, both thinking their own thoughts. Lance closes his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply and trying to centre himself one final time.

“Okay, I think I am ready.”

“Of course you are.”

Keith offers him one final soft smile before he unlocks the front door and slips outside—only to stop dead in his tracks as he and an equally startled Shiro stare at each other, the latter still holding the doorknob to Allura’s apartment. Lance grins broadly, waving at the man.

 

**ALLURA**

 

Shiro has barely made it past her front door and she’s already sensing he’s found trouble on his arse. He’s like a big baby sometimes. She can only sigh, abandon her cup of tea, and go investigate.

Shiro and Keith are staring at each other like star-struck lovers they are from across the hallway Allura shares with Lance. The latter grins when he spots her and she gladly returns the smile. It really feels like ages since they’ve last seen each other.

“Princess!”

“Hi, Lance!”

The air in the hallway, already tense since Shiro and Keith are standing barely a few meters apart, grows pregnant with something heavy like longing when Lance's and Allura's gazes lock. By Lance's side, Keith shifts his weight from one leg to the other, clearly embarrassed.

“I think we should let you two to uh—“ Keith begins.

“—to do the date thing. That. Uh. Let's go, Keith.” Shiro finishes on the same awkward note. Keith crosses the distance between them in two quick strides though Shiro meets him halfway, both men waving at their friends before hurriedly disappearing behind the corner.

“Well, that was the most awkward exit I’ve ever seen,” Lance comments casually and Allura giggles.

“I am afraid that wouldn’t be the last one we see. I mean, it’s Shiro and Keith—“

“The pining disasters. Yeah. I bet they’ll make it to the newspapers someday.”

She laughs again, a little breathlessly now. Lance really does look handsome today, and the idea that he’s put some extra effort into his always spot-on as it is appearance for their date makes her somewhat warm and giddy.

It takes just a few steps for them to cross the hallway and Allura rises up on her toes to kiss Lance on the cheek. He grins, cheeks dimpling, and holds her in his arms.

“Are you nervous?” she asks.

“A little.”

“Me too.”

Shiro had to come over because Allura was tearing herself apart trying to get her outfit for the date right. Asking Pidge and Romelle hadn’t helped. At all. And Shiro might have had to give her some pep talks, but Allura imagines that Keith had been at Lance’s for similar purposes.

Neither really wants to let go, and Allura really likes resting her weight in Lance’s arms. He always holds her as if shielding from everything and sometimes this is exactly what she needs, even if it’s hard for her to admit to weakness.

He is humming softly under his breath.

“Mhm, Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“If you don’t let me go get dressed I might be late for our date.”

He frowns, glancing down at her jeans and loose pullover. “You could brave the red carpet now and hit all the front covers, Princess.”

She laughs. “Maybe, but a little bird told me we are going somewhere outside so I'd rather put on something warm.”

“Does that little bird happen to have an artificial wing and white feathers? Because I am onto it now for spilling my secrets,” he mumbles.

“There might have been some tweeter from the smaller bird with fluffy black feathers, too,” Allura teases, eyes gleaming as she watches Lance.

“Ah. My side. Got it.”

Lance brushes a loose lock of hair away from Allura's face and with a promise to see her in a bit he goes back to his own apartment, leaving Allura to return to hers with her heart thundering in her chest.

 

**LANCE**

 

Allura is radiant walking hand in hand with Lance down one of the many paths in the park at the heart of Arus. It's chilly and the sky is cloudy, lit in beautiful colours by the sun turning to set. Lance really doesn't see much else: just Allura and the slow coming of a sunset, the smiles she gives him and the trill of laughter escaping her lips.

For once, Lance doesn't hesitate to bend down and kiss Allura, sometimes chaste and fleeting, sometimes set to tease and taunt, earning her pleased little hums in return. If their entire date could go just like this – the unhurried exploration of their town together, sharing kisses and tender moments – Lance would easily call this his ideal date.

Lance still remembers their first “proper” kiss. It’s somewhat funny it happened on the same night Keith had kissed Shiro. Something definitely had been in the air.

Allura is still peaking curiously at him from beneath her long, dark lashes. Lance hasn’t told her where they are going, set on keeping it secret for as long as possible – despite Keith and Shiro being two gossipy little shits – but the moment the two stop in front of the makeshift rink the people of Arus have made out of the large flat area not far from the lake itself, Lance is giddy watching Allura's eyes light up with both realisation and what Lance hopes to be excitement.

“You want us to skate?”

“Mhm. You okay with that?”

Allura smiles brilliantly and pulls him in for a hug. “I’ve always wanted to try,” she says, face half-hidden in Lance's deep blue scarf.

Lance's hands hold her tight, heart thudding steadily inside his chest where panic has resided ever since Allura called him yesterday and in a soft, embarrassed voice asked him out on a date.

On a _date_ date, no less!

“Princess,” he murmurs when she looks up at him and his heart swells at the sight of her so close, so beautiful. “You- you aren't exactly subtle in what you want. It was almost a no-brainer to figure out where to take you.”

He aims for a teasing tone but ends up somewhere awkward and shy instead.

“Oh? How so?” Allura narrows her eyes but her tone is playful.

Lance laughs, his cheeks tinting red in the chilly evening air.

“All your figure skating sketches lately... I mean, it's really hard to miss. They are everywhere.”

Allura snorts, turning in his arms to look at the rink.

It's lit with many colourful string lights and somebody went as extra as to haul projector lights here, too. There are enough people skating to make the atmosphere merry and festive, and Lance's eyes immediately land on a family of three, two dads and a baby boy barely old enough to stand on his skates but already doing better than one of his parents – who often ends up falling dramatically. It’s good his husband is an able skater and with just a hint of amusement in the unusually light brown eyes keeps catching both him and their son just a moment before the fall. Allura is watching them, too, her gloved fingers finding Lance's and lacing them together as they just stand on the edges of the rink and hold each other.

One of the volunteers at the rink – and an acquaintance of Lance’s – catches his eye and waves. Lance nods, smiling, and whispers into Allura's ear.

“Ready to hit the ice, Princess?”

She smiles up at him. “Do you really need to ask?”

“Let’s go get out gear then.”

 

“You really have thought it through,” Allura comments as she checks the ties of her skates.

“I have friends in places,” Lance replies with a casual shrug.

It was no bother to find some skates for rent, especially if one of his co-workers is a hobbyist figure skater and has been the one to mention the makeshift rink at the park to Lance in the first place. In fact, there barely was any hiccups in setting up the whole date and even the weather is merciful – it is cold enough to keep the ice a smooth and sturdy surface beneath their feet and yet the waning sunlight and the cotton clouds high up above their heads, bathed in sunset colours, set just the right mood.

To be honest, being around Allura always makes Lance happy and sentimental but today it is amplified, in a way. He can't help but pull Allura close again for a kiss. After, both grin at each other and with a few awkward, shaking steps they finally make it to the rink proper.

Allura immediately yelps, surprised when her left skate gives way beneath her but Lance is already there to steady her.

“Sorry,” she says, brows furrowed in concentration to remain upright, “I may need a few ticks to adjust.”

“Take all the time you need,” Lance replies. His cheeks are honestly beginning to hurt from all the smiling but who cares? Allura is right here, adorable in her first baby steps on the ice, and Lance would rather be nowhere else but by her side.

 

**ALLURA**

By trial and error and just a bit of Allura's natural strength and sense of balance and more than enough of Lance's advice, she quickly braves the rink. Before Lance knows it, he has to chase after her as the two skate casually around.

The sun has almost set by now and the volunteers have turned on the projector lights. Someone turned the music on, too, and there are definitely some cocoa drinks being handed over not far away from the rink. Allura makes a mental note to get some for Lance but for now, he's too busy following her teasing smiles and the long braid of white hair that stubbornly keeps getting in Allura's way.

There are kids zooming past them in a game of tag and before anyone knows it the entire rink ends up dragged into a match. Lance yells dramatically trying to get away from the baby boy Allura and he have seen before, his dads watching their kid with fondness – especially when Lance tumbles over, one of his skates catching on the blade of the other, and the kiddo tags him, a bright smile on the boy's chubby cheeks. He says something to Lance in Chinese and Lance acknowledges his defeat in Spanish and once he gets back to his feet and takes up the mantle of chasing people, Allura becomes his obvious target.

She laughs and skates effortlessly now, threading her way between people and Lance can't seem to catch up with her no matter what. Somewhat frustrated his apprentice has surpassed him (Allura snickers at that), Lance makes a show of hunting for others, the kids yelling and dashing away from him. Having grown a little winded out, Allura takes her moment simply to watch him and the kids, and the sight they all make finds its way into the ever-present pull of inspiration within Allura.

Yes, she’s been obsessed with figure skating lately, all the grace and fluidity and strength in the sport attracting her, but seeing how endearing and sweet it looks when people simply enjoy themselves on ice, not caring if they fall or not, just skating together and celebrating winter – that makes her wish she had her sketchpad and pencil with her now, too.

Maybe Lance will agree to come here again someday when the sun is still up. It wouldn’t be the same to try to sketch the rink out without his presence – he’s the heart of it all.

Lance catches her staring and winks. She smiles, following the pull of his inviting grin and skates towards the small fray Lance has found himself in, sprawled on the ground beneath at least half a dozen kids yelling about having defeated a giant.

Apparently, Lance hasn't tagged anyone yet so when Allura is within his reach he smirks, grabbing her calf.

“Gotcha!”

She laughs as the kids yelp and run away from her, only the kiddo from before staying with them as he stares with big curious eyes up at Allura.

“It seems you've made a friend,” Allura says, smiling at the boy who shifts to be more comfortable sitting between Lance's side and arm.

“Are we friends?” Lance asks the boy.

“Shì!”

“Aw, I've no idea what you've said,” Lance pouts.

“A-Yuan says you're friends,” a pleasant, slightly accented voice replies. Lance and Allura look up as the kiddo scrambles up to his feet with the hugest, brightest smile Allura has ever seen on a child and jumps into his father's outstretched arms. The quiet taller man by his side, equally handsome but in a chilly way in comparison to his warm and open husband, watches the scene with his hand resting firmly on his husband's waist.

“He’s a lovely boy,” Allura says as she helps Lance to his feet.

“Thanks for indulging him,” the shorter man says, grinning brightly. “He can be a bit overwhelming.”

“No problem, right?” Lance beams. “He skates really well for a kid his age!”

“It’s a passion,” the dad replies. His son cuddles into him, watching Allura and Lance from beneath his bushy dark lashes. Lance makes a silly face at him and the baby squeaks and laughs adorably.

The husbands glance between each other and the talkative one grins again. “A-Yuan is really out there to steal all the dates tonight.” The kiddo looks up at his dads at that and yawns, of all things.

“Aw. Look who’s sleepy,” Lance half-coos, half-teases.

“Yep, we better get going. Thanks, you two. Have a great date – and don’t forget to wear a rubber!”

Lance is the one to bristle, somewhat horrified, but the shorter man only winks at him and Allura and with a final wave of his hand – even his quiet husband offers a nod – ushers his family home.

Lance just stays there, frozen on the spot. The awkwardness and embarrassment oozing off of him are practically palpable.

Allura can't help it but tease.

“You know, Lance, you can relax. I know for sure Keith would murder me if we tried anything on our first date,” she offers, smiling at how her words startle Lance at first.

His voice pitches a little when he mumbles that Shiro would kill Lance for that, too.  She grins and kisses him again.

Lance always tastes so honey-warm sweet. Stealing kisses has quickly become one of Allura’s favourite things.

“Do you want to skate some more?” Lance asks when Allura finally pulls away and gazes at him.

“One more lap, maybe?”

Lance grins, pulling Allura to join him. They both aren't that good or practised at skating but Lance still tries his best to show off some moves – which at some point only make him end up on his arse once again. Allura chokes on laughter, kneeling down by his side.

“Are you alright?”

Lance rubs his tender behind briefly before mumbling that he is. “I can't believe I'm so rusty at this.”

“You look like you've skated before,” Allura admits, her head cocked to the side.

“Had some hockey training in middle school – which I dropped in favour of volleyball – which I then dropped in favour of tennis,” Lance begins to list off, amused somewhat by Allura's genuine surprise. “Which then has led me to fence with Keith—”

“Keith fences? Seriously?”

“Swords are his aesthetic, of course he does.”

“I should've guessed,” she shakes her head. She helps Lance up and they skate for a while casually, a contemplative mood settling over them.

“I've honestly never skated before,” Allura says after a few moments of comfortable silence. “I skied, I boxed, I did plenty of martial arts but never – this.”

 

**LANCE**

Lance itches for a pick-up line or at least anything flirty to say but doesn't come to him. Instead, he holds Allura's hand tighter as they begin their second lap. The night is settling above their heads and Lance's stomach rumbles and there's no doubt Allura is starved, too. It won't be long until they'll need to head to a café or at least grab something hot to drink.

Lance bites his lip, looking down at the smooth surface of the ice. The music is blasting over the speakers and laughter of other skaters carries over their heads but Lance’s mind locks up on the thought that this is really happening. Allura is right here, with him, on a date.

Perhaps Keith is right and Lance should’ve had the balls to ask her out a long time ago. They are literally neighbours. It would’ve taken a knock on Allura’s door or a random bump into each other and Lance can do small talk like no other, charm game on.

He sighs.

On the other hand, Keith has met Shiro because Lance is a moron in love and sometimes his wooing plans revolve around months of build-up and art classes. Maybe they would’ve met in some other way but those two are literally neighbours and they hadn’t. Perhaps all of this is some kind of fate.

Their final lap finally ends and Lance laughs, chasing Allura on wobbly legs in the snow. Once they put on their boots, Allura whispers that now it’s her turn to surprise Lance. He takes her hand and she leads him back to the still busy Arus’ streets.

Coming out of the park always feels a little surreal. It’s so quiet and peaceful there, and the border between the city centre and the park is like a portal gate into some other reality.

Perhaps that’s why Lance picked it. He’d cross all realities together with Allura.

 

**ALLURA**

“I can’t believe you’ve never been here before – you’re working down the street,” Allura says over her hot cup of cocoa. Lance currently is busy stuffing himself with a slice of honey cake and looks somewhere around cloud nine. They've been chatting and flirting for a while now, warming up after stars know how long outside in weather like this.

He takes a sip of his own tea and then replies, “Is this the place you wanted us to go back when we’ve first time decided to hang out after your class? When Shiro won the lottery?”

“Yeah, this is it! I’m honestly offended none of you has been here before, this is such a lovely café.”

It really is. Allura had discovered it together with Romelle some years back and it’s been their default meeting place ever since.

Little hand-crafted cakes and muffins, a vast variety of drinks and soft, pillow-decorated sofas and armchairs to sit on.

“Well, I will be coming here all the time now,” Lance grins, watching Allura, then frowns. “Sorry, Hunk, you’ve some competition now.”

“I’m sure he’ll live through that. I mean, Shiro is going to practically camp there once Keith starts to work at the diner,” Allura jokes.

“You know, I think you’re actually right. There’s no way he wouldn’t.”

“Has Keith told you about how they danced yesterday?”

Lance chokes on the cake. “They what now?”

Allura quickly narrates yesterday’s evening to Lance – it seems Keith had been too shy to tell Lance all of it which is somewhat out of character for him. Lance’s expression is a mixture of both astonishment and outrage that Keith hasn’t told him first, and the second-hand embarrassment because... Yeah. All the cheek kisses and the love-struck expressions Allura has taken her time to describe in vivid colours to Lance just to convey a fraction of what they all felt watching the two of them yesterday — those would definitely paint a proper picture.

Lance sighs. “I guess I’m gonna have to kick Keith’s butt. I can’t stand this anymore. I know it took me years to start courting you but Keith is gonna take a lifetime to even flirt back at Shiro.”

Allura laughs, then suddenly Lance’s casual words strike her. “Wait, Lance... You wanted to court me for years?”

He flushes, looking down at their small table. They are sitting across from each other in one of the tiny booths on the second floor of the café. It will be closing soon and there aren’t that many patrons here at this hour, so the atmosphere is intimate.

A stunning young man in a lovely warm sweater and with even warmer hands looks bashfully up at Allura from beneath his lashes and admits he’s had feelings for her for years.

She reaches over the table and kisses him for what is maybe a hundredth time but it still feel like the first.

“Lance, I—“

He’s so lovely, how is he so—

“Allura, it’s not like I’d ask you say something in return about this,” he babbles on. His lips are a little swollen now from Allura’s kiss. “I just want to tell you how much you mean to me and that I care about you a lot and it doesn’t have to be—“

“I care about you, too,” she says. Crystalline tears swell in Lance’s eyes.

“Ah. Y- you do?”

“Yeah.”

“You do.”

Lance is crying with his face hidden in his hands now.

 

**LANCE**

 

“I can’t believe I’ve ruined our first date. I really did that.”

“You did not, Lance,” Allura says, holding his hand as they make their way back to their apartment complex. "I've enjoyed today so much."

It’s been a long day full of a lot of walking and skating and Lance’s legs and butt hurt a little by now but still, somehow, he’s so light.

“I cried like a baby. Even the staff had been worried.”

She glances at him. “I cried, too. It’s alright.”

Lance sighs, squeezing her hand. “Will you go on the second date with me?”

“Of course I will,” she beams. “I’d go on all the dates with you, Lance.”

He smiles. Confessing to Allura has probably been the strongest sensation he’s ever experienced in his life. The rush of adrenaline and the swell of affection in his chest – he thought he was about to burst. He still feels like he’s about to.

He also can’t stop looking at Allura. And she can’t stop smiling.

They’ve come a long way from acquaintances to friends to, then, this. Like there’s good in each of them. Like neither can get enough.

Lance kisses Allura when they stand in the hallway, her back to the door to her apartment. He kisses her until he’s out of breath and her fingers are in his hair and his hands pull her closer until their bodies are flushed together.

Allura is humming around his tongue, little pleased purrs at the back of her throat. The sounds make Lance drunk. On happiness, on arousal, on Allura.

“Sweet Princess,” he murmurs into her mouth.

She moans shallowly, working on the zipper of his parka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chat with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/voidslantern)


	19. i'm short of breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set in the ambiguous future, where (unspecified) muscle diseases are a threat but the medicine is advanced enough to find a cure or at least a stopping mechanism for its spreading in the already affected body. In Shiro’s case, it’s all about keeping him at his peak now, which won’t recede if he follows strict workout schedules and a proper diet. Plus the meds, obviously. And doesn’t neglect his appointments to his whole squad of doctors (which he might like to do sometimes but shush, let’s not ruin his record). This isn’t Haggar’s magic/science/whatever she did to Shiro, but it’s close enough to a full cure. Let me dream up a better future, okay.
> 
> !!! Mentions of PTSD, panic attacks, chronic illness, gore (descriptions of some art), heavy nightmares tw for the last section of the chapter. There is some fluff in here, somewhere.

 

**KEITH**

 

“You look like shit,” Shiro says instead of greetings.

“Same can be said about you,” Keith replies in a similar tone.

He's so exhausted he falls into the hug, not caring that he hits his nose on Shiro's firm shoulder. The familiar weight of his arms on his waist is welcome – but it is still a long evening ahead of them so Keith allows only a few moments to enjoy Shiro’s embrace before he reluctantly steps out of his hold.

“Are you ready to get going?” Shiro asks.

Shiro sports a gym bag thrown over his shoulder and dark circles beneath his dulled eyes. Even his white hair looks greyish and lifeless, the floff not really there. He looks like he needs a good month of rest somewhere warm. With an ocean and cocktails and only bird songs to disturb his day.

Keith shudders to think if he's any better off. Neither of them has had a particularly good month and it shows.

Bad.

Really, really bad.

Even now, Shiro eyes him with concern.

“Just need to get my coffee fix,” is all Keith says, stalking into his kitchen, Shiro following just enough to lean a little against the door frame. He hasn't even bothered to drop his bag and Keith is already in his coat.

Their bus leaves in half an hour and they still need to get to the stop.

Keith quickly pours the scalding hot coffee into his travel mug. It should be just enough to sustain him until they get to Nah-Veer. Then, they have to track down their motel and there better be no problems with their booking because Keith is ready to go off at any moment.

Not like he usually bitches at the staff. He's just worn out this much.

Shiro still masters a smile when Keith offers him the second mug. Yes, he has two. And Shiro's fingers brush his when he accepts and immediately takes a sip. He doesn't even care it's too hot.

Keith examines his room one last time, making sure everything is turned off. Shiro checks the kitchen and the bathroom.

“Good to go,” Keith finally says. Shiro tosses him his scarf and picks up his backpack. Keith quickly ties his boots and loops the familiar red around his neck.

He's never sorry to leave his home. It has never felt like it is his.

The trip ahead of them seems like a prize at the end of a long-ass, tenuous, life-sucking month and Keith is prepared to enjoy it even if he threatens to fall asleep before he gets the damn digi-lock of his apartment to work. Shiro watches him with droopy eyes and he honestly tilts a little under the weight of the bags. It's not much. It's Shiro this tired.

“Maybe hit it?” Shiro offers. Keith hits it. It blinks and finally locks.

“Let's get out of here already,” Keith says, taking his backpack from Shiro and throwing it over his shoulders, and flinches. He hasn't packed anything but essentials for their two-day trip but the straps still dig painfully into his shoulders through the material of his coat.

Shiro only nods and together they make way to the stop. Neither speaks but they have a lot of catching up to do. For now, it’s just battery saving mode for both of them.

The bus finally arrives. Keith handles their tickets and the driver smiles at them sympathetically and gestures to get in.

Shiro is kind of walking like a zombie now but he makes it to their seats and lets Keith get the one near the window, then puts their bags on the shelf over their heads and only then allows himself to fall like a dead weight in the other seat.

“Wow I’m done,” he mumbles. Even his voice is weak.

“Try to catch some sleep, Shiro. It’ll be a three-hour ride, anyway.”

Shiro groans, stretching in his seat. Keith offers his music and they share the earphones until it and the gentle rocking of the bus on the bumpy road gradually lull Shiro to sleep. Keith stays awake, occasionally sipping on his coffee and keeping watch. Mostly he just stares outside the window, finding warmth in Shiro’s tired form curling closer to him until their thighs bump together and Shiro’s head ends up resting on Keith’s shoulder.

This month really has been shit.

You’d think switching jobs would be the more stressful thing? As it turned out, finding a place to live in is. Keith still hasn’t. He also hasn’t told anyone about it. Not yet.

He still has about a week. No need to panic. Yet.

Shiro had made it to some science magazines. Anonymously, but his doc’s name is all over the press now. “The physician to find a cure for the muscle disease that kills thousands a year worldwide.”

They interviewed Shiro. He said he is happy he gets to live his life. Keith couldn’t sleep for a week.

And Shiro just keeps going like a force to be reckoned with. Teaches his cadets. Prepares them for the midterms.  Writes new simulator courses. Spends time with his friends. All the while dealing with his rehabilitation routine, a bunch of doctors calling him to additional exams, and his therapist asking for attention every week now because the nightmares and panic attacks went worse.

Keith only knows all this because Shiro and he chat every night before bed. Otherwise, it’s the first time they see each other in weeks.

Allura (and then Lance) caught flu. There were no art classes for two weeks, but once Allura got better, she had stubbornly uploaded video courses so they wouldn’t fall back on the schedule. Lance had caught his flu from Allura, and being dramatic and sensitive, was completely bedridden. Veronica and her girlfriend Acxa had flown all the way from Cuba to take care of him. Not because Keith has bad bedside manners – Lance freaked pretty much everyone out when his flu got him hospitalised. That was when Keith realised that if Lance’s knack for drama quietens down it means something is really, really wrong. Allura had never looked guiltier before, Shiro said, but no one blamed her – the whole city was on alert because of that damn virus.

Without the classes, all Keith could draw was some creepy as fuck, messed up shit like diamonds breaking through rib cages, blood dripping from the eyes, and some ridiculous amounts of skulls in various states of decay.

Keith thinks of burning the most of it. It makes him want to gag every time he looks.

Those drawings were from two weeks ago. Keith couldn’t draw much since. Not even when Allura’s classes were back. He did what he could to pass his tasks but it was through gritted teeth. There was only a small project he’d undertaken, passionate about it at first but ending up struggling through it in the end.

He just can’t draw.

Shiro obviously has noticed but he doesn’t bother Keith with questions. Neither does Allura.

It’s even more pressing down on Keith since he has no idea what to do with the final piece for Allura’s class. Lance and he still haven’t had the time to sit down together and brainstorm ideas, not to mention to select a good medium for Lance to work with. Keith is only lucky to have acrylic paints already picked, and even that he owes to Shiro.

He tried pushing Lance gently towards watercolours once. Lance is yet to report back with how it’s going for him.

Shiro shifts in his sleep, turning his head to nuzzle into Keith’s shoulder.

“You’re gonna get neck cramps,” Keith tells him softly. Shiro mumbles something in reply but doesn’t wake up.

Keith thinks his heart is about to burst.

 

**SHIRO**

 

“Home, sweet home,” Shiro says as they step inside their motel room and settle down the bags. The place is nice and has two beds and large windows, not to mention a bathroom and they’ve even got their own kettle. A busy Nah-Veer street is visible from their windows but Shiro stares at the moon high up in the night sky and smiles.

Keith has finished his coffee awhile ago but now he’s outright sleepwalking. Shiro feels guilty for not letting Keith sleep on the bus.

“Do you want to eat?” Shiro asks as they both strip of their outdoor clothing and kick their boots off. Keith immediately falls face-first into his bed but lifts his head enough to mumble that he’s starving.

Shiro sits down on his own bed and spends a few moments looking for local takeouts. Somehow, neither of them thought to grab something to eat for the trip or at least on their way to the motel. To think, Shiro prides himself in planning ahead. Not today, it seems.

Keith is so busted he doesn’t protest against pad Thai though Shiro knows he would kill for a slice of pizza right now.

As they wait for food, Shiro unpacks. Keith is still reeling himself back in after the bus ride until he gives up and stalks to the bathroom to take a shower. Shiro can hear him whistle at their accommodations – this is a surprisingly admirable motel.

Let’s be honest. Shiro had spent way too many hours looking for a nice place to stay because he wanted to treat Keith and make sure he is comfortable during their trip.

They’ve split their expenses. Keith covers the bus tickets, Shiro – their stay. The food is on both of them.

When Keith walks out of the bathroom, a cloud of vapour follows him into the room. Shiro has been busy scrolling down his phone and it takes him a second glance at Keith to really _see_. Keith's skin is flushed and with a pang, Shiro realises he has never seen him shirtless before - and right now Keith only has a white towel around his narrow hips.

What a sight.

Shiro can't help but stare, drinking in every mole, every curve and ever dip until every little detail about Keith is carved into his memory.

Keith is lean and finely-boned, a little on the skinny side but not enough for his muscles to lose definition. There’s a dark happy trail running down from Keith's navel and disappearing below the towel. His hair is a damp mess he’s busy drying with a second towel but Shiro still follows each drop that falls from the dark strands and rolls down Keith’s shoulders and chest, catching on his lovely pink nipples.

Keith emerges from beneath his towel, hair sticking in every direction, and stares at Shiro staring at him. He swears he can see blush breaking across Keith’s cheeks in addition to his skin being flushed already as it is from the shower.

Shiro still can't look away even if he knows he should. He feels himself get really hot in his sweater. Keith's lips part as if he wants to say something but never gets to, both of them getting startled by the sudden knock on their door before either of them gets to break the tensed silence between them.

“It must be the food,” Shiro says, voice breaking into a hoarse rasp. He scrambles to get his wallet. Keith goes for his own, too, still dripping all over the place.

“I could pay, Keith, while you get dressed,” Shiro says lamely, staring at the lean muscles in Keith's back until inevitably his gaze falls lower.

Keith turns to glance at Shiro with a brow raised in a challenge and goes to open the door in just a towel.

Of course he does.

The delivery guy nearly drops the food but then recollects himself enough to accept the payments from each of them. Shiro can’t help but loom behind Keith and glare every time the guy tries to check him out, though. Keith is blissfully oblivious, and the moment the door gets closed he’s already trotting to the narrow table by the window and setting up the meal for them.

Shiro stares at Keith's figure, completely and utterly thunderstruck.

Keith doesn't seem to have any inclination to get dressed. Shiro has to reel himself in now, and after a few moments of debating and a realisation he will combust from being in one room with Keith _like that_ but unable to touch, he decides that taking a shower is a must now. Maybe Keith will deem it a good opportunity to get dressed while Shiro isn’t in the room. Not like he minds the view – it just doesn’t seem okay for him to blatantly stare.

And oh does he want to stare.

 

**KEITH**

 

The post-shower Shiro is flushed and adorable and Keith keeps stealing glances at him, even if the man had emerged out of the bathroom with sweatpants already on. The shirt came on later, and Keith couldn’t keep the pout to himself. Those flashes of damp, glistening skin and bulging muscle have immediately set Keith's blood boiling and nothing seems capable of distracting him.

The whole deal with the towel strip happened because Keith had genuinely forgotten to take any clean clothing with him to the bathroom. Putting on his jeans again didn’t feel right. Shiro, thankfully, didn't mind Keith walking around almost naked, and something new within Keith appreciates the way how Shiro looked at him. He tried to hide it but it was still evident that Shiro reacted strongly… and that he enjoyed the view.

Keith (dressed, for once) now is sitting opposite from Shiro at their narrow table as they finally dig into their dinner, and Keith gets to work around what happened while he busies himself with getting shrimps out of his bowl and wolfs down the rest.

Shiro's almost hungry look sure as hell left Keith affected, too, but how do you go about confessing to that?

_Hey, I know we both came here for a con but how about we fuck first?_

Keith shakes his head, chewing furiously. That would just spook Shiro away.

Keith has never been good at flirting. At all. Now that he actually wants to flirt with a man, he has no idea how to go about it.

Around that moment, Keith feels Shiro's knee bump against his. He looks up and Shiro is flushed and muttering apologies, carefully shifting in his seat to avoid disturbing Keith again. 

This table is really is small, and Shiro is tall and long-legged. There’s barely enough space for him beneath the table and if Keith doesn’t really mind the knee bumps, Shiro sure as hell gets flustered every time.

To think, back when they would eat at Shiro's place, neither noticed the occasional touches. Perhaps things indeed have changed between them ever since that kiss on Samhain.

It takes Keith just a few moments of staring at Shiro’s blush high in his cheeks to grin, a plan forming in his head.

There really is little space under the table, but what Keith does is to hook his ankle around Shiro’s and pull him in a little closer until they both are comfortable. Shiro’s blush deepens, but he doesn’t comment, and only glances at Keith from over his bowl.

 _Can this pass as flirting?_ Keith thinks briefly and then feels Shiro’s knee rest against the inner side of his own.

“Is this okay?” Shiro asks, voice barely above a whisper.

It’s Keith's turn to flush bright red and that feeling inside his chest that Shiro _answers_ – That makes Keith smile and hum his approval.

Shiro, too, finally looks relaxed, the tension visibly uncoiling in the broad set of his shoulders and the previously rigid posture relaxes into that of a pleased cat.

They both feel better now somewhere mid-meal as if the stress of the past four weeks has finally begun to seep away, enabling them to enjoy their trip and each other's company.

“So the con starts at 10,” Shiro says pointedly casually over his mouthful of pad Thai. “Do you wanna go straight for it or get up earlier and explore the city for a bit?”

Keith cocks his head to the side. “Maybe let’s sleep in tomorrow but do the exploring the day after?”

Shiro smiles and nods. “Works for me. It's the end of the week, after all. We both need some rest.”

“Yeah.”

Now that Shiro mentioned getting some rest, Keith remembers he still needs to unpack. He glances at his good old red backpack, a battered thing he's had since his few months at the community college. Tonight, Keith couldn’t even unpack it fully since he has something he doesn’t want for Shiro to see yet so he could only get out only the barest of the bare essentials he's brought with him.

Keith's gaze falls from his bag to Shiro's. He has already made his half of the room look like home, and that's with just a few casual items that still radiate Shiro's confidence and warmth.

“How do you do that?” Keith finds himself ask.

“What?”

“It’s like wherever you go you make it seem like you own the place. Like you belong.”

Shiro blinks and follows Keith’s gaze.

“I’ve put—my stuff— around?”

“Exactly! I could live at a place for a year and still feel like a rando walking in,” Keith mumbles.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Keith. I like your apartment - it's nice and cozy.”

Keith stares at him. Shiro stares back, brows disappearing beneath his white bangs. Bangs, because the floff hasn’t dried properly yet after the shower.

“Your uh—place? Lair? Batcave? Are we arguing the definition here? Is there an inside joke I don’t know about?”

Shiro is actually squirming in his seat. Keith can’t help but laugh, head thrown back and tears prickling his eyes. Shiro watches him with a sweet smile on his lips and Keith really wishes he could kiss him right now. It wouldn't even take much - just to lean over the table and pull Shiro closer by a fist in his shirt.

“No- no, gosh, I meant—,” Keith manages to wheeze out between fits of laughter, “I meant— How do you do it that your space always seems like home?”

Shiro cocks his head to the side, his clever eyes wrinkling a little in the corners as he studies Keith.

 

**SHIRO**

 

“It’s just I like to make use of all the space I get,” Shiro finds himself shrugging, though on the inside he can’t seem to get over the fact that Keith enjoys being ‘in his space’.

“No, that’s not— that,” Keith protests, sitting upright – only to get his chin resting in his palm. “I think I could never make do at whatever place I’ve lived at.”

“Well, you’re moving out soon. Maybe your new place will be the one to make you feel like home.”

“Yeah. I hope so, too,” Keith says, looking down.

A silence.

“You haven’t found anything yet, right?” Shiro asks carefully.

Keith glances at him. “I’m that obvious?”

“I won’t say I know your tells— but I know your tells.”

“I won’t play strip poker with you then.”

“Maybe that’s exactly why you should play strip poker with me,” Shiro smiles slowly as he gets up from the table, set to clean up after their meal, but Keith is already there, collecting the Ecoware plates.

“I’ll consider it,” Keith says to him with just enough heat in his voice to get Shiro to bite his bottom lip, still smiling crookedly at Keith.

He knows exactly what he’s doing.

They both do.

Flirting or not, it still bothers Shiro that Keith doesn’t have a place to live at. He knows Lance can help, but he also knows Keith won’t let himself get in-between Lance and Allura. The new couple is already known for a few fights, minor ones, mostly because they both just care _so much_.

It doesn’t take Shiro long to realise why Keith – who at first was okay with it – doesn’t want to move in together with Lance now, even temporarily. If he does, Lance will wreck himself trying to balance himself out for both his best friend and his girlfriend, and Keith just doesn’t want to cause any additional troubles. He won't forgive himself if anything goes wrong because of him.

Allura had already gone off at Lance once. When the kiss between Keith and Shiro turned out to be an absolute disaster. She didn’t like how Lance blamed Shiro – but ultimately, Lance is right. It is his fault.

“Hey, where did you go just now?” Keith is asking, violet eyes frowning up at him. It makes Shiro realise he’s been wiping the same spot on the table for the last minute.

Shiro shakes his head and smiles. “Just thinking.”

They grow quiet. It’s pretty late, but it’s Friday and Shiro still needs to get through all the data Matt has sent him. (He is an angel and a saviour, all hail Matt for agreeing to substitute again, even if it’s not his field. Shiro would never trust Adam or anyone else with his cadets. Maybe Commander Gallagher, but she’s pretty intimidating to approach even for Shiro.)

So Shiro climbs into his bed once they are done cleaning up and gets his laptop running. Keith plops on his own bed, too, and lies on his side, watching Shiro. Their beds are an arm's length away from each other - though the distance still seems too much. Shiro finds himself needing the comfort of Keith's body heat, even if it isn't that cold in the room.

It's a craving of a different kind.

“Still working, huh?” Keith teases when he reaches over to glance at Shiro's screen.

“Only for today. I need to be sure Matt hasn’t messed up my cadets and no one has been converted into the cult of science.”

Shiro allows a glance at Keith, who’s stretched out leisurely like a cat again, and adds, “Afterwards, I’m all yours.”

“Good. I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“So those lunches at The Lion's Diner don't count?”

“Nah. I was at work and you were always worrying you'd be late for your classes.”

Shiro chuckles then opens the files Matt sent. “Aw for the love of f—“

“What?”

Shiro groans, falling back into his pillows. “Matt’s notes are a mess. I’ve left everything labelled. I've left footnotes explaining what is what. I colour-coded for him. He still messed it all up. It's like he's done it on purpose.”

Keith snorts. “Actually, I’m not even surprised at that.”

“No?”

“Well, Pidge is out there bullying me into reporting back to her all the stuff we’re gonna see tomorrow at the con. At this point, I’m scared for my life.”

Keith means it as a joke, but Shiro still smiles in sympathy. “Yeah, Katie can be pretty intimidating when she wants to get something too badly.”

“...Who’s Katie?”

Shiro stares at Keith. “That’s Pidge.”

Keith looks absolutely baffled. “Her name is… Katie?”

“Yeah. Keith, don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

“Her badge at work said “Pidge”. She signs papers as Pidge. She introduced herself as Pidge when we’ve first met.”

“Aw, baby. I can’t believe she’s fooled you.”

Keith is quiet, and Shiro can practically see the gears in his head turning. It’s a good thing Lance isn’t here. They would not have heard the end of it otherwise. Now, it’s an effort not to bend in two laughing, but Shiro still cackles as Keith works through his crisis.

“She’s so in trouble now,” Keith finally says, grabbing his phone with a pout.

“You gonna call her out?”

“Damn right I am.”

Shiro grins, wishing Keith luck, and decides to turn back to Matt’s notes. This really is a mess but both Keith and he have been lucky to be able to get out of Arus so Shiro takes what he gets.

It’s still a little suspicious that Hunk had no trouble letting Keith go for Friday plus weekend, and Shiro is more than blessed not to get in trouble with the higher-ups at the Garrison for asking a Communications Specialist teach flight theory classes. Not to mention more than the suspicious way in which Kuron had acquired the con tickets in the first place.

Regardless, the whole trip seems like a dream so far, with a nice motel and even nicer weather in the forecast. Keith is already coming back to life and they’ve hardly been out of Arus for more than five hours.

Shiro glances at him, long-legged, with his loose, long-sleeved tee riding up on his sides and exposing his belly as he rants at Pidge.

Well, wow. Definitely a dream trip.

 

**KEITH**

 

“Pidge says Matt is making you report back too,” Keith states when he and Pidge flip each other off one last time before the video call ends.

“Yep. Asked to take pictures in exchange for him teaching my Friday classes.”

Shiro is typing away rather furiously on his laptop but he still spares a moment to glance at Keith. It’s weird to look at Shiro without the inspiration demanding drawings out of Keith, but something still stirs within at the sight of the man.

The urge to kiss Shiro again, yeah.

Maybe Lance really is right, Keith thinks, turning to lie more comfortably on his bed and curling in on himself after he pulls the blanket over himself. Maybe Keith really is demi and his whole life he didn’t know it because it took him nearly 26 years to find Shiro.

He stares at the muscles shifting beneath Shiro’s thin tee, his legs stretched out under the blankets. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows after taking a sip from a water bottle. Keith instantly feels thirsty, too.

It’s getting late but Keith isn’t sleepy. In fact, he doesn’t even remember the last time he’s felt this good — and there’s no doubt it’s because of Shiro. So he opts out to watch Shiro work, memorising his features over and over again.

Shiro catches him staring and offers a broad grin. Such a goof.

Keith sighs and rolls on his back.

“Wow. This bed is so comfy.”

“Try to catch some sleep, Keith.”

“I don’t want to sleep yet,” Keith replies. “I’m waiting for you to finish your work.”

Shiro snorts. “Give me about fifteen minutes more, then. Matt is a mess.”

They grow quiet again, and Keith figures the less he distracts Shiro, the quicker he’ll finish his work. Sometimes, Keith feels lucky not to have any homework with his retail jobs. Clock in, clock out, forget any of that ever happened to you.

He’s almost drifting off when Shiro sighs and puts down his laptop. “You still there, Keith?”

He throws his thumbs up, earning a soft chuckle from Shiro. His eyes are closed but he still hears Shiro climb out of his bed and pad around for a moment. What he hasn’t been expecting is for his own bed to dip beneath Shiro’s weight. Keith’s eyes fly open and he stares up at Shiro — who motions at him to scoot. Keith moves on autopilot, his heart racing in his chest.

Shiro has his camera in his hands and the softest smile on his lips. Keith’s inspiration is long since exhausted, but he still is in awe at the sight before him, of white hair glowing in the light of their bedside lamp, of smooth skin and the pink scar, of the kind, warm eyes framed by long, dark lashes.

Keith is lost in it, barely registering that Shiro is in his bed and says something to him, showing the images on the small screen of his camera. His heart thuds, and aches, and he wants to reach out to Shiro and hold him close.

“I’ve missed you,” Keith blurts out in the middle of Shiro’s sentence, still staring up at him. Shiro blinks, lips still parted, and gazes down at Keith for the longest moment before slowly hooking his prosthetic hand around Keith and pulling him close.

Soft lips leave a peck to Keith’s hair, and an even softer voice whispers, “I’ve missed you, too.”

Keith hides, curling up into the hollows in Shiro’s side, and allows himself this little comfort, letting it take him away from his worries.

Shiro is showing him stars and the moon and a few eclipses he’s managed to capture with his Canon. He is surprisingly good with a camera, and even if he tries to brush off Keith’s compliments, he still insists on that. It takes a pinch to Shiro’s side to get him to grab his laptop and show the images already imported from the camera. Shiro’s awkward laugh is adorable, and for once Keith gets to be the one admiring Shiro’s work and not the other way round.

Space is, however, haunting, and the way how Shiro sees it haunts Keith even more.

“Could you— Could you send me some of these pictures?” Keith asks.

Shiro actually looks like a puppy that has been given a belly rub. “Uh, sure! Which ones?”

“All of them?”

Shiro laughs and, of all things, kisses the top of Keith’s head again.

“Don’t let me get used to this,” Keith mumbles, watching Shiro send him the files.

 

**SHIRO**

 

“Why I don’t remember you from before?” Keith asks sometime well past midnight.

The room is dark and Shiro is currently serving as Keith’s pillow as they have hooked up on some volleyball anime Kuron has been talking about non-stop for a while now.  It takes him a moment to reply - both because he’s ridiculously invested in the characters already, and because Keith’s question startles him enough as it is.

“"From before?"”

Keith looks at him from beneath his bangs. Shiro can’t help but brush a few unruly locks away — and Keith being a wild little thing who doesn’t really welcome too much contact with people… He always welcomes Shiro’s touch.

It still startles him. Every time, it feels like a privilege, like an honour only a few get.

“Like, before Lance has started the whole going-to-Allura’s-classes deal. Before we’ve met.”

“???”

Keith snorts. “I mean, we’re basically neighbours. I worked at a grocery store where you shop often. How come we haven’t met before?”

“Huh. That is actually a good question,” Shiro admits. “I’ve been thinking about this, too. I usually go through the self-checkouts, but I think I do remember you at the store. You had your hair much shorter, though, and wore a cap a lot.”

“Just how do you remember that?!”

“I thought you were cute. And you helped me find baking soda.”

“WHY I CAN’T REMEMBER THIS?!”

Shiro laughs, watching Keith puff up. “I probably was just another customer you’ve had to deal with during your shift.”

Keith frowns. “I would’ve noticed your arm — no offence.”

“None taken. It was probably right before the accident, anyway, some three years back.”

Keith only nods.

They watch the show for a while more but Shiro can tell Keith is growing heavy with sleep. “Keith, you have to get some rest,” Shiro says. “Tomorrow’s a long day.”

“Mhmkay.”

Keith just rolls over in a way that suggests Shiro can help himself out on his own. Shiro chokes on the audacity but still leans over Keith for one final peck.

It’s easier between them now, like a wall dropped. Not the final wall, there is still something between them, unspoken and terrifying, but it’s all better now. Shiro doesn’t have the ability to fix the mistakes in his past, but he sure as hell can fix his present.

Especially if he wants Keith in his future.

 

**KEITH**

 

There’s a gasp coming from Shiro’s side of the room. A cry, terrified and heart-wrenching.

Keith is a light sleeper but he would’ve been startled awake even if he wasn’t. He kicks his blanket off and stumbles to Shiro’s bed, heart in his throat. It’s still too dark even if it’s closer to the sunrise now — it is December, after all — and Keith can’t make out Shiro’s face in the dark. Panicking, he reaches to turn on the bedside lamp, flinching from the light too bright for him.

Immediately, he returns to Shiro, trying to wake him up but he’s in too deep right now.

Eyes closed shut, tears rolling down his cheeks, muttering something in unintelligible strings of mishmash words but Keith still has to reel himself back in from the sight of Shiro hurting.

“Hey,” he attempts again, trying to shake Shiro awake. “Shiro, wake up—”

Shiro only tosses and thrashes in the bed as if fighting something, his words finally gaining enough coherency for Keith to make out “no” and “please” being repeated over and over again. He tries to shake him awake again, panic swelling up his senses.

“Shiro, please! Wake up!”

Whatever it is, whatever Shiro is seeing—

“Shiro, dammit! Fight it!”

Shiro’s tears, Keith’s tears… It doesn’t make any sense but Keith would fight Shiro’s nightmares with his bare hands — just to set him free of it.

Shiro gasps, begging for something, his hands suddenly grabbing Keith’s wrists where he’s been holding onto his shoulders. His grip is strong — stronger than Keith has anticipated, especially the artificial arm’s — and it hurts enough for Keith to gasp out loud but he refuses to let go.

“SHIRO!” he yells, both in pain and in fear.

Shiro jerks, gasping, and in one swift motion Keith ends up on his back, Shiro above him, holding him down. His eyes are finally open and Keith smiles at first — only to see the haunted look in the warm grey and realise Shiro isn’t fully back yet.

“Shiro, hey, hey— It’s alright, it’s me, Keith, you’re fine, it’s just a bad dream—” Keith half-chants, half-begs when he sees his words meet an iron wall of panic and fear on Shiro’s side.

He tries to free himself from Shiro’s vice grip but it’s fruitless, and somehow makes Shiro growl behind his teeth.

“Shiro, it’s gonna be alright— Please, let me go.”

Shiro is wild and scared and so strong, and it’s a terrifying sight but Keith wills his voice to be steady and calm. He begins to talk of random things, of how bad dreams aren’t real and can’t hurt you, of their tomorrow, of meeting their favourite author. Keith may know how to deal with panic attacks but nightmares? That’s new, and he goes for his instinct and a blind hope that his voice will be enough to guide Shiro back.

So he doesn’t stop. He goes on and on until there’s an answer from Shiro, his head tilted to the side.

Slowly, the terror behind Shiro’s eyes swells with tears.

“That’s right, Shiro,” Keith says, crying, gulping down his tears, too. His wrists really hurt now, wrenched above his head. “Let it go. Come back to me. Please, Shiro— I need you so— so fucking much—”

Shiro blinks. Once. Twice.

His gaze clears, and a single, confused, broken “Keith?” escapes his lips.

Keith can’t answer him, too overwhelmed with relief and the aftershocks of panic so intense he can’t stop crying.

“Keith,” Shiro repeats, and a new, awake kind of horror strikes him when he takes in the way they are tangled together, and immediately loosens his hold on Keith. “I’m— I’m so sorry, Keith—”

“You’ve had a nightmare,” Keith says, lowering his hands. He can already see the bruises forming on his skin and he quickly pulls down the sleeves of his tee. Then, he quickly wipes his face. Shiro is staring at him with his eyes wide, his skin so pale he looks like a ghost.

“I did this,” he says in a broken whisper.

“I couldn’t wake you up.”

“I’ve hurt you.”

“No. It’s alright. You were the one hurting. I’ve panicked and didn’t know what to do.”

“Keith—”

Shiro sits in the bed, sobbing and so— tired. Exhausted. The weight of the world on his shoulders.

Keith rises on his knees and pulls Shiro in until he’s sobbing into his shoulder, and he grasps at Shiro’s white shirt and buries his face in his neck, holding him tightly.

“It’s alright, Shiro,” Keith repeats, over and over. Shiro apologises, over and over, in-between his sobs, rasping in a mix of English and Japanese. Keith can’t understand him at times but he can speak with his body, and he holds him with all he has.

Time passes and Keith sees the sky turn to dawn. Another sleepless night won’t do them any good, and Keith guides Shiro to lie down. He has no idea if there are any meds to give him so he could sleep but before he gets to asks Shiro about it, he grabs onto Keith’s sleeve.

“Keith— Can you stay?”

He nods. He only grabs his pillow and blanket and climbs back into Shiro’s bed not a moment later — but Shiro is already grasping at him as if he’s been gone for years.

“Shiro, you’re still shaking.”

“Sorry.”

Keith lies down, facing him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not now,” Shiro breathes out. He’s staring back at Keith with his brows knit together and with hesitance, he asks, “Can you hold me?”

“Sure.”

They shift, figuring out the logistics until Keith ends up the big spoon, chest-to-back with Shiro who is curled in on himself. Keith rests his palm on Shiro’s waist at first, but he pulls him closer, clutching Keith’s hand to his chest, their fingers intertwined. Keith dares to kiss Shiro’s nape, a soft press of lips he hopes will give Shiro some comfort.

A shudder runs through his body.

“How many times are you going to save me before this is over?” Shiro mutters, exhaustion leaking into his voice.

Keith pulls the blankets tighter around them. “As many times as it takes.”

“Keith—”

“Rest, Shiro. I’ll watch over you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was Barcelona’s “Please Don’t Go” on repeat for me for you know what.
> 
> chat with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/voidslantern)
> 
> and i've got to say it. thank you to all the kind people who support me and message me saying kind words about this fic. i struggle a lot with it sometimes and your support is giving me strength and determination not to give up on this. thank you, again and again, from my whole heart.


	20. standing next to you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for PTSD, nightmares, grieving.  
> I keep Shiro’s and Keith’s favourite author nameless because he’s a mix of old man Corvo Attano and Thace in my head (but really, really old) and I want him to remain a cryptid so please endure.  
> This is my one-year VLD anniversary, and, as I prefer to call it, my Sheith anniversary, so I'm celebrating with this almost 10k giant of a chapter and soft pining Sheith.

**SHIRO**

 

When Shiro wakes up, it is to the sounds of his 6 a.m. alarm and Keith's soft, sleepy hums. The weight of his arms around him is all things but protective the most and Shiro allows himself to enjoy it for a few seconds more before the sharp signal of his wristwatch becomes too loud.

It takes some careful slipping out of Keith’s hold to reach the nightstand and no matter how much Shiro tries not to disturb him Keith is already yawning, rubbing at his eyes.

“Morning—”

Keith's voice is husky from sleep and there's fine stubble on his cheeks and chin. With his hair an unruly mess spilling over the pillow like a halo, he looks nothing short of an angel. Shiro rolls over and stares at him for a moment drinking in the sight before he answers.

“Try to sleep some more,” he tells Keith. “It's still early.”

One violet eye pops open and looks at Shiro quite judgingly. “Why the fuck are you waking up, then?”

Shiro’s gaze catches on the blooming bruises on Keith's wrists and it’s a wave of cold over him.

“I need to do my routine and— some stuff,” he explains lamely. Keith doesn’t look like he is buying it.

 

**KEITH**

 

Shiro looks miserable.

 

**SHIRO**

 

“Hey, wait,” Keith catches Shiro with a demanding fist in his shirt and pulls him back before he gets to climb out of the bed. Shiro doesn’t have the strength to resist Keith and falls down into his own pillow, his body heavy with a night full of fitful sleep.

He still bears the lingering sensation of Keith’s lithe frame pressed tightly against his own, a perfect snuggle of limbs and muscle and warmth and feelings Shiro is afraid to name. If the circumstances didn’t involve a nightmare episode in this, Shiro would’ve allowed himself to enjoy cuddling with Keith for a few precious moments more. Now, guilt eats away at him and he needs to do something about it.

“How are you?” Keith asks, only letting go of Shiro’s shirt to lay his palm flat against Shiro’s chest. His gaze lingers, searching Shiro’s face, his brows pinched in concern.

He sighs and offers a weak smile. “Honestly? I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“Shit. Do you need anything? Would talking help? Just tell me if there’s anything I could—”

“Keith.”

Shiro's vision blurs with tears briefly but he blinks them away and smiles instead, genuine, warm, at the effort Keith puts into this, violet eyes wide awake now staring back at him.

“You asking these things already makes me feel better. Thank you.”

“Shiro, you know I'm here for you.”

Keith states it like a fact in a calm, soft voice, and Shiro smiles wider and a little broken, cracked around the edges where he's been hurt before but Keith is there now, with his ability to find gaps in Shiro's defence and fill them with his light and care.

Keith gazes at him and the mauve eyes pierce Shiro through, no barrier between them right now. Keith is exposed, too, vulnerable in his concern and gentleness he rarely shows with others present, usually guarded and a little jaded in public.

It's a sweet curl of Keith's pink lips in an answering smile, and his long fingers tap against Shiro's chest a little teasingly before the black lashes flutter shut as if Keith tries to etch the moment into his memory.

Shiro spends these seconds just watching Keith and overwhelming, profound longing stirs deep inside of him.

Someday, someone is going to be waking up to Keith like this every day not knowing their luck. Keith is brighter than any dawn.

Shiro’s flesh hand finds its way to Keith’s palm on his chest and laces their fingers together. It's a blow of realisation that Shiro gets to share as rare of a moment as this one with Keith. Perhaps, nothing like this will ever happen to Shiro again, the cosiness of their bed, so warm from their shared body heat against the settled chill in their motel room, and the softness and effortless beauty of the young man in front of him, diamond-sharp edges smoothed out into feline grace and languid movement.

It's a treasure slipping through Shiro's fingers. He holds onto it with all he has, grasping for comfort he hasn't allowed himself to have, undeserving.

Keith opens his eyes and stares down at their laced fingers, then looks up at Shiro with intensity burning in his gaze. He studies Shiro for a few thudding heartbeats and frowns, clever eyes easily reading him.

“I don't really know shit about nightmares but if talking helps… I don’t judge or anything like that if that’s— something that happened to you before. If you don't want to speak of it - it's alright. I just want you to know that—” Keith stops to take a deep breath, voice a little rasping when he speaks again, “know that I care about you and want to help.”

Shiro knows Keith feels his heartbeat. He knows how it races.

The flashbacks of the scenes from his nightmare go through his head and they are intrusive enough to make Shiro’s skin crawl even now.

“Alright,” he says quietly.

There are some hurtful things Shiro has kept inside for years and only ended up with them rotten shut inside of him, blocking his path to healing he’s desperately trying to find on his own. Often, he feels like he drowns in black, thick muck like bog slime and silt, unable to breathe, unable to escape.

Keith is a revelation, however. Keith is fire and passion, a burning lighthouse in the endless dark. Keith is a wonder, a treasure, an undiscovered constellation Shiro yearns to reach.

Shiro hates himself for becoming a coward but he is also so fucking tired of it. Keith is right _here_ , and Shiro wants him, wants him in every way possible, and then some.

There is also no skirting around the fact that losing Keith would be the final blow. It would bring Shiro down to his knees, and he isn't sure he'd be able to rise again.

So now, he is going to kick all his old fears and broken pieces out and trust Keith, brashly, recklessly, _fully_. Fuck what's happened before. Fuck Adam for quitting on him when Shiro needed him most. Fuck every single thing that made him hesitate with Keith.

And Keith _cares_. So much, so thoroughly. He makes Shiro open up, coaxes him into admittance and awakens the bravery to face certain barriers and push through. Keith makes Shiro feel so much, all at once, where once was only what PTSD can offer.

Keith has been by Shiro’s side at some of his worst moments and sat through them with Shiro without even a flinch or a flick of hesitance, proved to make it nonchalant and casual in his concern for Shiro, in his easy way of just being there for him, as if making him feel better is a second nature to him.

Keith himself doesn’t make a big deal out of it but Shiro does, treasuring those moments because they make him believe he is going to get better. Keith voices his care only now but he's been doing it for a lot longer, perhaps even without realising it.

Shiro's gaze falls down to Keith’s hands, where the sleeves of his shirt had ridden up and exposed the soft, smooth skin that is red and swollen now in angry lines that match perfectly the broadness of Shiro's palms.

What a fucking way to repay a kindness.

Keith shifts in the bed, looking expectantly at Shiro. It’s up to him to say something, to begin, so he does, in slow, jumbled words trying to explain to Keith his nightmare though he realises there is so much still Keith doesn't know. Shiro allows a bolt of cowardice but he'd rather not bring up his accident and its aftermath. Not now. Not on their weekend together.

So he tells him his nightmare instead, shivers running up and down his spine.

A dream of being taken captive, forced into slavery and thrown into the gladiator arena. Bloodthirstiness, gore, death… He caused it all, he did it all, to survive. Keith listens to him talk with a quiet, sad expression. Shiro struggles at first but now he is almost done, not really holding back on the descriptions once the words begin to fall from his lips like leaden drops.

He struggles telling everything but he doesn't spare neither Keith nor himself, blatantly honest, words ringing dull in the air. Shiro doesn't hold back and voices the worst, voices things he's usually too much of a coward to share. Absentmindedly, Shiro notes it snows outside, and he watches the snowflakes when looking at Keith becomes too much, when he feels the monster he was creep beneath his skin.

He tries to explain the nightmare is unrelated to his trauma but apparently, he's exhausted enough by the past weeks to make him perceptible to dreams like that, too, though the guilt he feels for ruining the lives of others is so similar it turns and twists his insides.

Shiro hates the impact his words leave on Keith but their laced fingers tighten the hold on each other and… Somehow, it all eases the weight on his heart, just enough for Shiro to know what to do to fix this mess.

When Shiro is done, Keith is quiet for an awfully long moment that sets Shiro panicking.

“You know,” Keith begins quietly, “that night when Lance, Allura, and I drank all of Lance's shitty beer after Allura's class — Lance had a nightmare, too. Did Allura tell you about it?”

“No, I don't think so.”

Shiro does know there was only one night when all three got wasted together — right before the day at the Garrison Academy with Kuron and him. It was also just a day after Keith kissed him, Shiro realises with a start.

“It's oddly reminiscent of your nightmare,” Keith murmurs, frowning again. “As if they are two pieces of the same puzzle.”

“Really? Can you tell me?”

“So uh— Lance dreamt up some fucked up universe and there was a war and we — like, the whole gang — were fighting in it and uh, you were there, too, and I—” Shiro stares with no small amount of fascination at Keith's cheeks tinting pink, “there was basically a lot of stuff going on but at the end of it all Allura sacrificed herself to save the universe—”

“What?!”

“Despite the fact there were other options at hand — as far as I understood Lance's ace storytelling, anyway — but no one did anything to save her or bring her back somehow and—”

Keith is agitated now but he quickly narrates Lance's dream, frowning even harder than before. The urge to smooth out the wrinkle between his brows is almost unbearable but Shiro has to reel himself in from the idea of Allura giving up on her life. The thought alone hurts enough, a sharp dagger of pain right between his ribs.

“After her death, we all have drifted apart. Pidge was doing her science thing, Hunk was a chef, Lance a farmer—”

“That's so racist.”

“Lance's head is a mysterious place. And you, someone who went through hell and came back… You, of all things, retired at the honourable age of 27 and married a random guy you didn't even know the name of.”

Shiro blinks, stunned. “I did _what_.”

“That.”

“What the fuck?!”

“I don't know! But it was so bad, when Lance told Allura and me about it, Allura looked like she was about to punch through a wall.”

“I'd never— I'd never give up. I’d never quit.”

“And you didn't give up in _your_ nightmare, too.”

Keith has fire in his eyes and voice when he says it and with no small amount of surprise, Shiro realises that he is right.

“I didn't give up.”

“You kept fighting. _You survived_. You're strong, Shiro. In nightmares, in real life, anywhere. Nothing can bring you down.”

Shiro lets out a laugh, startled, thinking of his dream in a different light. It eases the tension of the fear’s grip on his heart, no small thanks to Keith’s unwavering belief, too.

“You sure can find the silver lining in the most unexpected things, Keith.”

He only shrugs and closes his eyes, nuzzling a little into his pillow. “I don't get nightmares that often. I don't have PTSD so I have no idea how it is like for you. I can only come up with ways how to help and support you, and it will take me some time to get it right but I want to help, Shiro. So yeah.”

Shiro's thumb draws soothing circles on the skin of Keith's palm. He's left speechless, with a lump in his throat but he drinks in the sight of Keith and wonders if he knows what it means to him. How much it means to him.

“What did you do?”

“Mhm?”

“In Lance's dream?”

“Oh. I didn't like you marrying a rando so I distanced myself from everyone, flew on the other end of the galaxy and helped to rebuild there.”

Well, that's something. “Lance's fever dream sure did all of us dirty, huh.”

Keith yawns in agreement. He looks like he's about to drift off. Shiro smiles, admiring the curve of Keith's lashes and the sleepy sounds he makes.

“Thank you, Keith,” he says, lifting Keith's hand and murmuring the words against his knuckles. “Thank you for listening and supporting me.” He takes a deep breath and presses his lips to Keith's hand. “It means the whole world to me.”

Keith watches him with unwavering attention despite the sleep pulling him down. “Anything for you, Shiro,” he says, once again stating it like it's a constant in the whirlwind of their lives.

Carefully, Shiro unlaces their fingers and climbs out of the bed, whispering softly. “Try to sleep, Keith. I'll go out for a moment.”

“Wake me up when you get back?”

“Sure.”

 

**KEITH**

 

Keith yawns uncontrollably after Shiro wakes him up with gentle words and a hand on his shoulder. He's been gone for less than half an hour but came back with food he no doubts snatched from the chef at their motel.  

Keith stalks off to shower first, then comes back and plops onto his bed, content to treat himself to the spoils of the breakfast included, and glances at Shiro. Music is playing softly from his phone and Shiro is busy doing his exercise routine, and some of the stretching motions look complicated enough for Keith to wonder if those come from some kind of an adapted yoga style, although the most of the routines still focus on building Shiro's strength.

Keith chews on his waffle and stays staring, quite mesmerised by Shiro's display of physique he's sketched so many times before but has rarely seen in motions like now. It’s— quite a sight. Shiro’s perfect form begs to be used in gesture drawings, something Keith isn’t that good at but is willing to try more with Shiro as his model. Not to mention how those rolling muscles catch Keith’s gaze and make him wonder how would it feel like to touch Shiro, to explore his way around bringing pleasure to him.

Blood is hot in Keith’s veins and his thoughts race at the sight of sweat breaking on Shiro’s skin, his breathing, while controlled, still audible as he works his body through the routine. Keith wonders of the sounds Shiro would make with Keith’s mouth around his cock, how the muscles in his abdomen would ripple with every laboured breath as Shiro would fight the urge to fuck Keith’s mouth in earnest.

Fuck, he'd put his tongue and lips and teeth to every inch of Shiro's skin.

Keith is pure innocence when his gaze meets Shiro’s for a brief moment before the man turns away, working on the muscles in his back. Keith has to look away and bite on his lip before inevitably his eyes fall down to the perfect curve of Shiro’s ass.

The waffle is nowhere near satisfying Keith’s hunger but he takes what he gets and focuses on chewing and staring at the clouds outside.

“Yeah, I can't do any of that,” he comments sometime later when Shiro takes a break to wipe the sweat from his brow and take a sip of water.

“For a while, I couldn't do any of this, either. It takes time to master.”

“Well, at least it explains why you look like that,” Keith says, earning an amused look from Shiro.

“Like what?”

“Fun to draw.”

Shiro rolls his eyes and effortlessly does a handstand. His tee exposes the defined muscles of his torso, the V shape of his abdomen on display, too. Keith swallows down hard.

“Now you're just showing off.”

“But I am fun to draw—” Shiro sing-songs, then begins to do push-ups only using his flesh hand.

“You're a fucking menace,” Keith says matter-of-factly.

“Admit it, you like the view.”

“Yeah, sweaty, red-faced Shiro is such a turn-on.”

Shiro bristles and nearly falls. There's barely enough place in their motel room to fit a hyperactive workout enthusiast so it might have not ended up well for their small table and Shiro’s breakfast on it but Shiro steadies himself on time, rolling smoothly to assume a more human-appropriate head up, butt down position. He kind of glares at Keith, who only sips innocently on his cup of coffee.

“Tease,” Shiro mutters under his breath. Keith sticks his tongue out at him.

It's been difficult to get Shiro to feel better after the nightmare. He'd locked up in a shell and was perfectly content to rot in guilt and the horrors of his experience, and Keith still isn't sure what exactly had he said that made Shiro feel better but—

Keith knows a lot about building walls and he did his best to respect Shiro's boundaries and even simply asking him to share scared Keith and yet… If anything, it felt like Shiro had let him in on something he keeps only to himself.

Now Keith can't help but wonder at it. He has always been told he has his walls high up but Shiro is closed off, too, albeit in a different way. Keith isn’t sure he has the right to call it harmful but Shiro looked desperate and hurt when he woke up this morning and the sight of him like that made Keith’s whole being turn around and focus on making him smiling and happy again.

 _What is it_ , Keith asks himself, a hand fisted in the fabric of his shirt, _what is it that he makes me feel?_

Minutes tick by. Shiro cools down and stretches for a few moments more, then, sweaty and still flushed, he gives Keith a long, hard look. Keith doesn't know what to make of it as Shiro pads over to get something from his coat and approaches Keith sitting on the bed and kneels down between his legs. It is so unexpected Keith is somewhat impressed he doesn't choke on his coffee, so he promptly puts the cup down on the nightstand by the now empty plate of waffles and stares at the kneeling man with shock evident.

“Uh, Shiro?”

He only catches Keith's hands in the broadness of his, eyes unreadable as he stares at the bruises on Keith's wrists.

“I'm sorry I did this to you.”

“You don't have to— Oh.”

Shiro has his flesh fingers coated in some sort of cream that startles Keith with its coolness against his skin when Shiro begins to gently apply it to the bruising but it’s… pleasant. Whatever irritation and pain there was, the balm and Shiro’s care soothe it away with each careful stroke of long fingers.

_Is this the reason why he went out earlier?_

Keith is too stunned to move and lets Shiro work his hands however he wants. Shiro avoids the eye contact — or maybe he’s too focused on massaging Keith’s wrists — but there is something in the way how Shiro kneels, how close they are to each other. It's— intimate. It makes Keith's blood boil and rush south and once again he realises that this is the man Keith has been waiting for his entire life.

Keith stares down at him and decides that if Shiro asks, he will let himself be completely at his mercy.

“We should’ve applied something cold to these bruises right away,” Shiro finally speaks in a low voice and still looking down at Keith’s hands, palms turned up as Shiro cradles them in his own.

“We were kinda in the middle of something,” Keith breathes out. Shiro looks up at him and smiles sadly, searching Keith's face.

“Shiro, we’re good. Really.”

He nods slowly, silver eyes going storm-sky dark, and as he gets up, he leans in and presses his lips firmly to Keith’s.

Keith suddenly doesn’t know how to breathe and however brief the kiss has turned out to be — just a peck, really — they stare at each other with something wild and taunt in the air between them.

“I’m gonna shower now, then eat and change the battery unit in this thing,” a wave of prosthetic fingers, “or we’ll be late to the con,” Shiro murmurs as he straightens up.

Keith nods and can’t help but touch his lips, a featherlight brush of his fingertips since he's too afraid for Shiro's caress leaving him too soon.

A slow, goofy grin breaks across his features and Shiro beams back at him, too, flushed and as bright as sunlight.

_A kiss._

 

**SHIRO**

 

When they finally make it to the Nah-Veer Five Convention and drink in the scale and the crowd, Keith is practically vibrating in anticipation by Shiro's side.

It's a synchronised “wow” and excited grins shared, both eager to dive right into the exploring. This con is huge — exceeding Shiro’s expectations by far, not to mention the joyful faces of the people attending and just the sheer amount of stuff Shiro and Keith both want to see before the panel with their favourite author.

Mindful of that, Shiro nudges Keith towards the first of the various tech displays, the most of it inspired by the newest Star Trek, babbling to him of some amazing creations he's heard of and cannot wait to see. Keith smiles to him, bright and all-encompassing, and together, they admire everything they want and quietly discuss things while waiting for their turn. In all honesty, Shiro can’t get enough of Keith, and listening to him and talking to him, teasing and challenging and questioning — time flies by fast and it’s never enough. Not for Shiro, not when he’s greedy for every second he gets to spend with Keith.

If last night was the pinnacle of all the build-up Shiro has had this entire month, finally spilling out of him in all the kinds of fears but hurting Keith being one of those things he still cannot forgive himself for… Last night has also broken a dam Shiro refused to be aware of. All his feelings spilled out for him to sort through at a later date, yet opening up to Keith has brought the deep kind of relief Shiro's therapist has never come close to achieving.  

And the walls of that dam? That was the toxic notion that Shiro is incapable of earning anyone's affection, that he will never be held in tender, caring hands again, too broken and twisted for it.

Keith did it all. Does it all. Holds him despite being hurt by him, cares for him despite witnessing his demons.

It is not like Shiro's brothers or Allura or Matt or Sam cannot fill the empty spaces left in a broken heart. They are the ones who have seen Shiro alive through the lost limb and broken dreams. It is Keith who challenges Shiro to do better, to pick himself up from the ground and match him, catch up with him and soar high in the sky, together.

Shiro's heart swells.

New dreams begin to form on the ruins of the old ones, and quite a few involve the shades of blue and violet and the mess of coal-black.

He’s never felt this good.

It's an effort not to kiss Keith again and again, right in front of everyone, because Shiro is thunderstruck and all the words jumble up together into the incoherent babbling so he fails to express to Keith what he makes him feel — so he uses his body when his mind fails him and smiles fondly at Keith and yearns to touch him, the contact with the coiled spring of energy Keith keeps so well under check addictive to Shiro.

Everything about Keith is, and Shiro is never getting enough of him.

Keith gapes at someone’s moving holographic art, eyes alight and wild and Shiro _melts_ because he's kissed this beautiful, honest man just this morning and it was like molten starlight against his lips. Maybe it was an impulse — Shiro moved before even realising what he was doing — though there’s nothing he regrets about it aside from keeping it so brief.

“Shiro, look!”

Keith spots something new and is already dragging him to the next stall before he gets time to react. Belatedly, Shiro remembers his promise to Matt (and, by extension, Pidge) to document the con. He pulls at the straps of his Canon, the camera previously left discarded hanging from his neck. It takes him a moment to get the tech working on the settings he wants — Shiro is not that particularly skilled at candid photography, after all. His main theme has always been the sky and the stars but today—

The first picture he snaps is Keith.

He earns an embarrassed shove and a string of reminders Matt has little interest in looking at Keith when there’s so much awesome tech around them.

Shiro grins. “That one was for me.”

Keith's mouth falls open and he closes it with an effort, cheeks flushing dark.

“Well, I guess it's fair. I have whole sketchbooks filled with you,” Keith mumbles, self-consciously adjusting the straps of his backpack.

“That you do,” Shiro laughs out, a little breathless. “You look beautiful today,” he adds, admiring Keith in his black N7 hoodie, his outgrown hair tied back in a loose ponytail that leaves the beautiful column of Keith’s neck exposed. However little sleep they both have had, it still seems to be enough to fuel them both for today. The dark circles beneath Keith’s eyes he’d been sporting yesterday have smoothed out and are barely noticeable now, and his mood is lively and full of energy, if a little nervous the closer it gets to the panel.

Keith stares at him with eyes wide, too shocked to even move. Shiro counts that as a win and winks, shifting his focus to the convention to let Keith gather himself.

There is something peculiar in the way how Keith reacts to anything more… romantic between them. Not like Shiro is off any better, although he knows what he wants but it looks like Keith is less sure himself.

Shiro looks down at his prosthetic fingers. It really doesn't take him long to figure out why and it's a sharp pang of nauseating cold down his spine.

 

**KEITH**

 

Shiro has stalked off to the next stall already but Keith is still trying to calm his frantic bird of a heart.

He's used to complimenting Shiro, be it through his art or through the teasing remarks. It's still new for him to be on the receiving side, even if he can recall all of Shiro's sweet, encouraging words.

This isn't the first time Shiro calls Keith handsome but the way how Keith receives it is different now. The soft, rich voice spreads over Keith's body and the gleam of the storm-grey eyes taunts, envelops, sets him aflame.

He reacts, of that Keith is sure. He welcomes it. He wants more, more of Shiro's attention and kind words and kinder eyes. He is alive with it, with the idea of finding someone he belongs to, and that it is not just someone but _Shiro._

Keith finally moves from the spot he's been glued to and catches up with Shiro and lets himself bump into him and throw his hand over his shoulders, grinning wide.

Shiro is startled, something glassy about his eyes but Keith knows he's flushed and he wants Shiro to know his words mean a lot to him.

 

**SHIRO**

 

“Then you can take however many pictures of me as you want, Shiro,” Keith says, a toothy, mischievous grin on his face, “only if you promise to pose for me someday.”

“I pose for you literally every time Allura calls me for her classes,” Shiro mumbles. He's a little distracted by Keith's closeness and the weight of his arm pulling him to the same eye-level with the much shorter man.

“I meant _outside_ her classes,” Keith tsks. “I have something less static in mind.”

“W-What? _Less static_ , what the hell does that even mean?”

Keith laughs and lets Shiro go. He immediately mourns the loss of contact.

“Ever heard of gesture drawing?”

“Allura mentioned it a few times but—” Shiro shrugs and trails off, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. There still are some things he doesn't know about art despite being best friends with an accomplished artist and on good terms with her father for years now.

Keith's grin turns wolfish. “Don't google it up, then. I'll show you later.”

Shiro pouts. “Tease. Again.”

“I know you like it.”

It takes him a beat but Shiro grins back at Keith. “You’re on, Kogane.”

 

**KEITH**

 

Surfing through the crowd and the con as they wait for the panel turns out to be a better experience than Keith has initially expected it to be. Shiro is an excited puppy dashing from stand to stand but it takes Keith’s constant reminders to snap pictures for Matt to get him to work with that sweet Canon. It doesn’t stop Keith from wondering at the shots, eager to see them once they get back to their motel room.

Not like there is something groundbreaking at the con, per se, but Keith is more thrilled to see the world through Shiro’s point of view. It’s something that stems from his artist mind but no small amount of it goes to the fact that the white-haired man has settled firmly in Keith’s heart and he simply enjoys getting to know Shiro.

So now, they find themselves mingling with a group of cosplayers. Keith is well-received for his low-key casual Commander Shepard cosplay (he has no heart to tell them this was his only clean hoodie for the trip, anyway) and Shiro gets his bolt of teasing for his Yuri Gagarin tee and more than enough of curious glances at his arm though thankfully no one mentions it out loud.

Keith makes small talk with a young woman in a stunning Shepard cosplay, combat armour and M-77 Paladin all on-point, and they quickly bond over the series and general love for Shepard. Shiro asks for snapping a few pictures — and Keith beams, dragged along and getting squished between Garrus and Shepard, not even bothered for once to half-hug a pair of strangers. Afterwards, Shiro is laughing and chatting with Garrus as they exchange contacts so that Shiro can drop him the pictures on a later date. He also gets called out for having never played a Mass Effect game in his life before (Keith makes a mental note to fix this ASAP, somewhat horror-struck that Shiro misses out on a classic set in space) and by the time they have to move on from the cosplayer group Shiro has made a few new friends.

The by noon the crowd is thick enough to make it difficult to navigate through the main hall, so after a quick snack on the large balcony on the second floor of the complex, Shiro and Keith head back down to brave the artists’ valley. It’s still about an hour until the panel, so Keith takes his time admiring the works of other artists as the crowd moves around him. He’s aware of Shiro moving to the next table, and he switches to the other one, too, guided by the array of colourful lights decorating the vendor’s display.

The convention becomes the white noise at the back of Keith’s mind as he stares at the stunning work, weights and judges the prices of the merch, gives a curious look to the original comics and a few stacks of zines. It’s a completely different world to Keith — he’s never been to a con like this one, never realised the strain and effort it takes to prepare, nor the toll it takes on the artists, the haunted look in their eyes and how sometimes it takes to rely on a friend to man the display while the artist, quite frankly, collapses in the background and wolfs down their meal.

The world of fine art Allura and Alfor live in is different and not quite what Keith finds to be his cup of tea, though he is more than grateful for the opportunities Allura offers to him. The chaos of a convention, though— That is something he is surprised to find himself enjoying. Not to mention that punching out fanart is much more fun for him than mulling over original pieces Allura always asks of him.

Keith sighs, admiring a few prints while the artist he’s taken an interest in is busy with customers, and is about to move on but ends up lingering when he spots a curious piece he finds to suit Shiro perfectly and—

It doesn’t take him long to find himself joining the line to buy it, a soft smile on his lips as he hopes that Shiro will like it. He asks for the artist’s business card, too, and they chat for a brief moment before the next wave of potential customers claims her attention, though she winks back at Keith and insists he drops into her DMs with a report on how well his gift is received.

When he turns around, he doesn’t see Shiro anywhere near, though he could’ve sworn he’s heard Shiro’s voice just now. Keith searches the mass of people around him for a while but doesn’t spot the white floff of hair anywhere and decides that Shiro might have just gotten carried away exploring. He shrugs his backpack off and hides the gift before zipping it back and continuing on his own viewing of the artists’ valley.

When it’s only about 20 minutes before they really need to go to the panel, Keith begins to worry. He tries calling Shiro’s phone — only to feel it vibrate in his backpack since he tossed it there for safekeeping after fishing it out of the pocket of Shiro’s coat before they left their outerwear in the checkroom.

The mass of people makes Keith’s head spin and his eyes hurt trying to spot the head of white hair and the silver arm and before he knows it Keith is just wandering aimlessly through the crowd, hoping to spot Shiro first and kick his butt something good for disappearing on him.

At some point, Keith ends up following the nudge of instinct somewhere behind his solar plexus and lets his feet carry him to one of the astronomy-focused displays. He dallies there, anxious in earnest now until he spots the all-too-familiar set of broad shoulders and the muscular back.

“Shiro?”

The noises of the con are too loud and his call gets swallowed by the sheer scale of the place, but he tries again, louder, and this time, Shiro hears him and turns, following the sound of his voice.

 

**SHIRO**

 

“Keith?”

If someone could play the Kill Bill sirens for Shiro he’d appreciate it very much but pissed off Keith is quite a sight and makes Shiro swallow down in apprehension. He storms through the crowd, not at all bothered if he bumps into anyone and Shiro swears Keith even flips someone off when they try to show their discontent.

It doesn’t help him that when they finally reach each other, Keith has murder in his sharp eyes. 

“Keith, you found me,” Shiro exhales, quite relieved.

“Did you fucking get lost?”

Shiro flushes bright red, sheepishly holding onto his Canon. “Um— yeah. Took some photos, though.”

Keith levels him with an unimpressed glare, nostrils flaring. “You’ve left your phone with me. The panel is starting in five minutes and we’ve probably missed all the good seats.”

Shiro puts all his charm into his apologetic smile and he has to give Keith the due credit for not giving in. Instead, Keith only grabs Shiro’s flesh hand and drags him after himself. Shiro, dumbfounded and ridiculously happy, allows the comfort of lacing their fingers together, grinning down at puffed up Keith.

Keith worries his bottom lip briefly between his teeth and mumbles to Shiro not to get lost again, though his grip tightens and Shiro can’t help to pull him closer.

“I’m sorry for the detour,” he whispers into his ear, allowing his voice to go lower than usual, “but I promise to make it up to you.”

It’s Keith’s turn to blush though he holds Shiro’s gaze with a stubborn set of thick eyebrows and a pout of plump lips. “You better, _doll._ ”

Shiro only smirks lazily in answer. “So this is how it’s going to be like?”

“I have no idea what are you talking about,” Keith draws out, marching confidently to the room that is about to hold the panel they’ve been waiting for nearly over a month.

There is enough of attendees there to make their progress slow but whatever of a miracle — or perhaps the combined effort of Keith’s razor-sharp glares and Shiro’s considerable bulk — they get to claim two seats in the middle, in a comfortable view of the elevated table and a few displays above it for the back seats.

Shiro whistles, taking in the scale. By his side, Keith deflates, nervously clutching his backpack to his chest as they settle in their seats.

“T minus one,” Shiro says, glancing at his watch. Keith nods and puts his bag down between them.

Shiro, looking for trouble on his ass, is unable to resist the urge to snap yet another picture of him. It pisses Keith off enough that he forgets his nervousness and sets off to bicker with Shiro before the start of the panel. Shiro only stops teasing him when the elderly man, bent by the years and with a limp in his leg, appears on the stage along with a few younger people and the host.

Keith’s fingers find Shiro’s right hand and squeeze him hard.

“I’ve never thought I’d see him in person,” Keith whispers as the customary greetings and introductions take place.

“You’re going to _meet_ him, too,” Shiro replies encouragingly. “The autographs, remember?”

Keith shoots him a rather terrified look. “Right.”

Shiro shakes his head, smiling softly as he remembers Keith’s murder glares from less than 10 minutes ago, and the shift to the sweet and docile boy now. His gaze falls to the red backpack Keith has been extra protective of today and wonders if there’s something Keith is trying to hide — or simply doesn’t want to be seen yet.

 _He’s been awfully secretive about what has he been drawing lately, after all_ , Shiro thinks absentmindedly as he listens to the panel and takes in the sensations of being held shooting up his artificial hand.

 

**KEITH**

 

He is a mess.

He yells the loudest when a new — and last — book is announced. There is a lot being said, about the novels, about the retirement, about life and death and love but Keith drinks it all in, wondering at how the man who has shaped his life ever since his childhood speaks, so fluid and yet witty and deep.

He shakes his head a no when Shiro nudges him to go up to the mic and ask the questions Keith has had for years now so Shiro goes in his stead and charms the entire room with his wit and pleasant voice, his question earning the hums of approval from the author and his assistant, and granting him probably the longest answer as of yet.

Shiro returns to his seat by Keith’s side grinning like a champion. Keith has held his Canon for him but he doesn’t tell him right away that he’s snapped a few pictures of him, too. It’s unfair to Shiro to record everything on the con but himself so Keith takes that responsibility upon himself.

It doesn’t take long for the panel to be over, but Shiro and Keith still make on time their way to be amongst the first dozen of people in line for autographs. Keith has fished out his and Shiro’s copies of the books they want to be signed out of his backpack, but the wrapped frame is a constant reminder, an edge of it peeking from the backpack left unzipped on the floor by their feet.

Keith’s hands shake too much so he struggles with just holding the books.

This is it. He’s about to be face-to-face with one of the greatest minds of the century. The line moves. Keith’s knees go weak under him as he thinks of the number of times he’s read and re-read his books, in awe every time, and the joy it brought to him to share these stories with Shiro. He tries to come up with things he wants to tell the author but his mind is a mess and he is panicking hard enough to consider turning around and leaving.

Strong, firm hands envelop Keith and pull him in. The airy, fresh scent he can’t put a name to but simply calls it Shiro’s hits his senses and he doesn’t care anyone is watching them. Shiro holds him tightly, shielding, and Keith breathes him in, hiding his flushed face against the fabric of Shiro’s tee.

Shiro’s fingers card through the loose strands of Keith’s hair and he hums quietly before letting him go. Keith looks up, head cocked to the side as he searches Shiro’s face.

“What was that about?”

Shiro offers a lazy, nonchalant shrug of the impossibly broad shoulders. “Figured I haven’t hugged you today.”

The line moves a step but Keith is stunned staring at the man in front of him. “But you’ve— _kissed me._ ”

Shiro, as mindful as ever, moves them forward so that they do not disturb the others in the line.

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” Shiro replies simply as if that’s the whole explanation.

The line moves again, much faster this time. There’s only a handful of people before them. Keith can see the author talking to someone animatedly, light blue eyes kind and clever. He gulps down nervously, clutching the books until his knuckles turn white.

“Keith—,” he glances up at Shiro, “Speak your heart and you will be fine.”

“I’m not that good with talking,” he admits. “It’s easier for me to draw — always has been. Talking is— you cannot take back what you’ve said.” The night when Keith called what he and Shiro have not a priority to him plays before his mind’s eye. “I— regret a lot of things.”

“It means you realise your mistakes,” Shiro says softly, nudging him gently forward with a hand on his waist. He doesn’t move it away when Keith nearly trips, suddenly facing his favourite author and all words die in his throat.

It is Shiro who takes the lead, introducing Keith and himself and offering his congratulations on the upcoming book release. Keith rasps out an awkward “Hi” and lets Shiro do the talking as the author signs Shiro’s relatively new hardback and Keith’s battered, at least a decade old and well-used paperback.

Keith still shakes like a leaf, as Shiro has helpfully described it, but he accepts his book back a lot steadier that he’s expected from himself. Shiro’s thumb rubs soothing circles into the small of Keith’s back and Keith closes his eyes briefly as he listens to Shiro hold the conversation flowing. He _stalls_ , Keith suddenly realises, for him to gather enough strength to speak.

Oh.

 

**SHIRO**

 

“It was my dad who introduced me to your books,” Keith begins. Shiro has to bite down on his lips from exclaiming out loud in victory. He watches with no small amount of pride as the author’s attention snaps to Keith — who looks at the paperback in his hands and strokes the title fondly, as if finding his strength in it.

“I grew up reading your stories and discussing them with my dad,” Keith’s voice is soft, raspy around the edges where his nerves haven’t smoothed out yet, but it’s a sound dear and precious, and Shiro’s heart aches for his own parents when he listens to Keith talk about his father. “His view and theories were always different from mine but that’s what made it fun for us. I could stay up all night reading and would never get in trouble for it — dad would just walk in and read with me. And even if he’s been dead for a decade now, every time I see or read a story by you it’s as though he’s still here, with me. It helps me to stay close to him—”

Keith blushes and glances at Shiro. “It helps me stay close to some else, too.”

The author’s mouth forms an “o” and he eyes them with a twinkle of curiosity. Shiro nearly chokes but manages to wheeze out, “Keith here is the one who hooked me up on your books, sir. I haven’t been reading much by that point but your stories — and Keith’s love of them — have reignited my old hobby. It— I wasn’t the same without reading and I’m grateful to the both of you, and if this is also a way to meet Keith’s dad then—”

Shiro trails off lamely, very aware of Keith’s focus on him.

“Oh, dear—” the older man’s voice breaks and Keith looks up at him hastily, for the first time meeting his gaze and holding it. “This is never an easy subject, the death of a loved one, be they family or your lover.”

Keith is barely breathing, and Shiro gapes, too, as the man gets up slowly and limps around the small table, ignoring the worried reminders of his assistant of the time limits. The old man leans against the table, hands crossed over his chest as he studies Shiro and Keith, head cocked to the side and eyes alive with wit.

“It was the man I loved most who made me start writing. He was also the reason I kept going when all I wanted was to give up. He supported me through all of my lows and stood by me in my highs. In turn, my writing was a way for me to realise again and again how much I loved him — and still do. It helped me confess, in every word, in every plot line — all of it, I poured it into the novels you now read.”

Keith smiles. “It’s how you communicate it to the world.”

“Exactly!” The author looks fondly down at the paperback in Keith’s hands. “He’s been gone for years now but I still feel his presence when young readers tell me of their own experience with my stories. I'm honoured to be a bridge between the past and the present, a link between a dead father and his son.” Keith takes in a shaky breath. After a pause, the author looks up at Shiro’s and Keith’s faces. “I’m also exceptionally glad these books have you two bond,” he adds rather cockily and Shiro has to hide his face in his prosthetic fingers.

Yeap, he definitely overshared and not only Keith has seen right through him. Wow.

“It’s— not the only thing to come out of it,” Keith says quietly.

The author dismisses yet another reminder of the time constraints when Keith hands Shiro his book and kneels to carefully pull out a rectangular bundle from his backpack. Once he straightens, he hands it to the old man, asking him to accept it as a thank you.

Astonishment and then tears flood the author’s expression as he unwraps the gift, and for once the man who wrote shelves of books is left speechless.

“I draw a bit and Shiro’s been head over heels over this particular scene,” Keith chuckles softly. “He’s kept me up all night gushing over how much he loves the book and read the scene out loud for me and I just had to draw it afterwards. I had to show you just how impactful this scene is.”

Shiro tries to peek over to see the drawing but the glass catches light and reflects it against Shiro’s favour. It’s only when the old man asks for permission to hug Keith he gets to glimpse the drawing and—

Well, yes. That—

That is the happy ending Shiro has taken close to his heart. Of all the modern media one consumes, rarely is there one that doesn’t leave a bitter aftertaste once you finish it. This ending, however, these series — it’s a journey of struggle that makes you stronger, of friendship that holds and love that prevails. Shiro cried his heart out in joy and satisfaction when he read through the ending. Seeing it done by Keith— It makes those feelings come back to him again.

And Keith’s artwork is stunning, as always. There’s a commotion around getting the ARCs for the two of them, a battle of wills between the author and his assistant, a few impatient remarks of the people in line behind them. Shiro doesn’t really register any of it and it’s just him and Keith’s brushwork, the way how he paints smiles and how golden is his sunlight and how the colour is bright and bold, the characters brought to life by his hand.

He paints happiness and love with a yearning of a man who’s hardly been subjected to it, Shiro realises.

 

**KEITH**

 

The old author has some impressive arms' strength and Keith rubs his sides after being held in his tight embrace but it’s totally worth it.

The writer looks lonely, amongst other things, but he doesn’t hold back in showing his gratitude. It’s probably something different to the no doubt huge amounts of fanart he has received over the years of his career and Keith is stupidly stunned by the reception and the heartfelt confessions that this is exactly how the ending played out in his head when he wrote it.

Shiro steals a moment to glance at the drawing before Keith manages to tell him he’s made a print for him, too, but they hardly have a moment to talk about it as they end up in the clutches of the assistant who asks for their addresses so that they could ship out the ARCs for them once they are ready. It all ends up into waiting for the author to wrap up the autograph signings and they chat with him for a little more, discussing the books without the impatience of others pressing down on them.

Keith walks out from the panel still shaking but it’s not nervousness but excitement, and a little bit of pride over his own work.

“I didn’t even expect him to like it!” he babbles on to Shiro who’s been somewhat pensive since the panel’s end. “I struggled a lot with it and at some point have even given up on it altogether but holy fuck, Shiro — he liked it!”

“Was there ever any doubt?” Shiro asks with a tease.

“Don’t say it—”

“I’ve never doubted your talent—” he goes on. Keith fires up and aims to shove him but Shiro dodges easily, laughing loud. “You’re really good—”

“SHIRO!”

“I am terribly offended you’ve kept it a secret from me for so long—”

“YOU—”

Shiro is halfway sobbing at Keith’s embarrassed attempts to shut him up and after a few moments of teasing him more, Shiro finally deems himself satisfied enough with his handiwork. Keith readjusts the straps of his backpack and marches on towards the movement of the crowd, leaving Shiro to catch up with him.

Out of the two of them, who truly is the tease?

Shiro catches up to him in two strides of long legs and, as they face the mass of people, Keith’s fingers find Shiro’s.

“Don’t get lost again,” he tells him. Shiro huffs but holds Keith’s palm firmly.

Together, they move on with exploring the con, only deciding to stop when they both feel too hungry to take another step.

They find the area dedicated to the video games and challenge each other to a few PvP matches and Shiro spend some ridiculous amount of time ogling the new Borderlands game — which then leaves Keith with a promise they are going to play some co-op games once they get back to Arus.

After, it is lots of space-themed panels and interactive galaxy maps and Shiro has stars in his eyes, hands reaching up to brush his favourite constellations and telling Keith legends behind each. At that, Keith takes the camera from Shiro’s hands and takes pictures of him, burning to capture that rare look of utter bliss on his face.

 

**SHIRO**

 

It’s late evening when they finally get back to the motel, their legs aching from the entire day spent walking. They return with some spoils from the artists’ valley, too, having re-visited it hand-in-hand this time. Shiro bought a small collection of prints he can’t wait to hang on his walls and Keith treated himself to a Stucky zine — which they both end up flipping through, anyway.

After another takeout dinner since both are a bit too overwhelmed by crowds to sit in a cafe, Shiro hooks up his camera to his laptop and they sit together on Shiro’s bed and browse through the pictures from the convention, grinning and discussing their impressions all over again since neither wants to shut up about how great it all was.

Shiro hums when he spots pictures of him Keith has managed to take without giving himself away though then they both get sad over the fact they haven’t taken any selfies together.

“Well, we still have tomorrow,” Shiro offers.

Keith smiles, nodding. “Almost the whole day to explore Nah-Veer—”

“Mhm.”

After some discussions over what they feel up to do tomorrow, Keith dozes off curled up into Shiro’s side as he scrolls down his messages, smiling at the pictures of Black Alfor has sent him while they were at the con. After typing a quick “Don’t spoil him while I’m away” in response to Alfor, he chats for a bit with Allura. At some point, Keith wakes up again, and it all escalates into a video call when Lance joins Allura on the other end. The four talk well into the early night, Lance and Allura teasing Shiro and Keith with the sunny day they’ve had in Arus while Keith and Shiro had to wade through the unexpected snowfall in Nah-Veer. The boys retaliate by sharing the most exciting things that happened to them at the con and both Lance and Allura look positively envious.

When the call ends, Shiro and Keith talk for a little more until it gets late enough for them to be unable to form coherent thoughts around each other.

Somehow, neither mentions the fact that they share the bed again, both too lazy to move anyway, the nest of blankets and pillows from the previous night refreshed with new bed linen but still as comfortable as it was before. The only time throughout the evening when they part is for bathroom breaks and when Keith comes back to the bed he sits down facing Shiro and in sheepish words, he tells him he’s got something for him.

“Oh, Keith—”

Shiro cups his hands as he accepts Keith’s gift. It’s a small cube done in a material similar to plastic but not quite. It’s surprisingly heavy in Shiro’s hands and he turns it, trying to understand what it is. Keith laughs and asks him to close his eyes.

Shiro obeys without the second thought and hears Keith turn off the bedside lamp. Slender fingers then brush against his as Keith turns the cube on with a switch at the bottom and whispers to Shiro to open his eyes.

When he does, it’s like diving into a galaxy contained in the perimeter of their motel room, stars and constellations he doesn’t recognise dancing in the air and across the walls and the ceiling and the boy sitting an arm’s length away from Shiro.

Shiro manages a gasp but still ends up choking on the feelings swelling in his chest.

He’s never had butterflies in his stomach. He’s never even liked this metaphor. What he feels is much stronger, anyway, it knocks the breath out of him and it’s a weight on his back he can’t quite name yet but there is _something_ there, beating in sync to his racing heartbeat.

Keith swipes a finger over the surface of the cube and the galaxies change and with a laugh, Shiro recognises the USS Enterprise cruising from one star cluster to the other. Another swipe and it’s their star system, their Milky Way, and Shiro grins back at Keith.

“After last night I’ve figured,” Keith begins shyly, “that I can’t be with you every time the nightmares happen but I thought that maybe something you really love could help you stay calm.”

The hologram changes the hue to purples and pinks and violets, the unhurried movement of the celestial bodies just for the two of them to see.

Shiro covers Keith’s hand with his own and doesn’t care if his thank you wavers too much it’s a barely recognisable jumble of words. Keith understands him anyway and without much of coaxing curls up into Shiro’s side as together, they watch the stars above their heads.

“When did you get this?” Shiro manages after some time.

Keith chuckles, prompting a shiver to run down Shiro’s skin. “At the time, you’ve been busy getting lost—”

“You’re never letting it go, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not.”

A silence, filled with their even breathing and the quiet hum of the galaxy cube.

Keith’s form grows heavy as he drifts off again and Shiro is nowhere better, lulled into sleep by the cascading stars that slowly change colours and twinkle peacefully. Shiro doesn’t really know if he’s imagined it or dreamt it up but when Keith turns in his slumber, throwing his hand over Shiro’s chest and pulling him closer, he hears him sigh and murmur,

“Please, don’t leave me alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/voidslantern)


	21. i'm out of my depth at this altitude

**KEITH**

 

In the morning, Shiro hums approvingly around Keith's suggestion to sleep in, both of them drowsy and tired but in a pleasant way after a good, long day spent together, and now Shiro's body is a warm weight half-sprawled across Keith.

Keith vaguely remembers falling asleep with his face pressed against Shiro’s pecs — what a bliss — but now Shiro and he have somehow ended up with their positions switched. It's an effort not to think about Shiro's thick thigh in-between Keith's legs but Shiro mumbles nonsense in his sleep and Keith laughs quietly to himself, rubbing soothing circles into Shiro's bad shoulder. He doesn’t mind the closeness, especially with Shiro fast asleep but in truth, if it was a conscious act, Keith would’ve been more than terrified.

He wants to kiss Shiro, he wants to make him feel good and explore his body and make him cry out in pleasure but every time Keith thinks of Shiro returning the favour he just— locks up. Mostly because Keith would not be able to hold back from that. He’d want more and more, not because he needs sex but because he needs Shiro. It would expose him and his feelings and as much as he is used to baring parts of himself with his drawings, it's a completely different thing with his emotions and body.

It’s terrifying. It’s thrilling.

Keith’s heart rams on in his chest with a new kind of strength, the steady beat so alien to the dullness that used to be there until recently. He sneaks his free hand — the other is currently being held captive by Shiro — under the blanket and puts it over his heartbeat in a faint attempt to calm it.

It echoes back to him with love and light and goodness, and if it’s his, there’s a man in his arms, sleeping soundly and cuddling closer into Keith every time he tries to free himself, then—

“It’s yours,” Keith whispers, kissing the top of Shiro’s head.

Sleep takes him on and off but the two extra hours of slumbering pass quickly enough to make Keith regret it. He misses their bed before he even climbs out of it and misses their time together even if they still have half a day to explore Nah-Veer. Stubbornly, greedily, Keith doesn't want the trip to end, nor does he want to ever leave Shiro's comfort. It’s two full days of just them but it’s enough of a taste for Keith to know it’s his favourite.

Keith sneaks in a peck to Shiro's hair again before the man's wristwatch goes off, and tries to look as innocent as possible when Shiro — still not fully awake — moves his thigh too high as he reaches the nightstand to turn off the alarm. The contact immediately gets Keith to blush anyway but whatever self-control he has goes right into keeping his blood from rushing south.

Shiro, oblivious, rolls back into his spot and nuzzles into the crook of Keith's neck.

“Morning,” he mumbles, his breath tickling Keith’s skin.

“Hey, Shiro,” he replies with a waver in his voice too soft to be noticed. “Sleep well?”

“You make a ridiculously good pillow,” Shiro laughs out and rolls off enough to stretch and yawn languidly. Keith stretches, too, his previously occupied body a little stiff now but being squished beneath Shiro’s considerable weight was absolutely worth it.

“I still can’t believe I’ve convinced you to sleep in.”

“Mm. I think we both needed that,” Shiro says, gazing at Keith from beneath his messed up bangs.

Keith rolls to lay on his side, too, and now the boys face each other, basking in the rays of golden light of the morning sun — and each other.

“I don't want to go back to Arus,” Keith says earnestly after a few beats of admiring Shiro’s tentative, almost shy smile. The thought alone makes him upset and his expression falls enough for Shiro to sigh and reach out to cup Keith's cheek, his thumb running soothing strokes down the sharp edges of Keith's jaw.

“We still have some time to explore Nah-Veer, remember?”

“Yeah but… I don't want our trip to end.”

Shiro smiles knowingly. “Neither do I.”

Keith closes his eyes, smiling back as his words settle firmly around him, the warmth of Shiro's fingers too strong of a pull not to nuzzle into.

Black must be the luckiest cat in the universe. Shiro's hands are magic. It's an effort not to purr.

They stay like this for a few moments, both struggling to wake up but unwilling to abandon the bed for the cold air that settled firmly in their room. When Keith opens his eyes again — keeping them closed any longer threatens with more sleep and Keith would never forgive himself for wasting any more time he gets to spend with Shiro — and looks at him, the man appears pensive, silver eyes hard and sharp as he studies Keith.

Whatever it is on his mind can't be an easy subject though his heart traitorously skips a beat when Keith realises that _he_ is the subject of Shiro's quiet concentration.

“Your lease ends soon.” Shiro's voice is soft when he speaks but no matter how much he tries to smooth it down Keith instantly locks up at the words.

“I still have about a week.”

Shiro studies him for a few long beats. Keith hasn't told anyone about how fucking shitty his situation has turned out to be but it doesn't stop Shiro from seeing right through him. It's as if Keith is an open book to him and he's not sure if that is a good or a bad thing.

“You haven't found anything, have you?”

Keith's jaw works as he looks down. Shiro’s thumb runs over the skin of Keith’s cheek, offering comfort he doesn't really deserve, not when his own stupidity has him cornered.

“No.”

“Have you spoken to Lance?” Shiro asks, even softer now than before, as if apologising for his persistence. Keith avoids looking at him. Shiro would never end up on a brink of homelessness because of some ridiculous notion of being too proud and picky to stay at the one place he could actually afford.

He doesn't reply and Shiro sighs, understanding anyway. A moment passes in tense silence, Keith riled up enough there’s a nauseating lump in his throat. He definitely doesn't want to go back to Arus, back to the flat he hates but it's the only home he could have and he busted it, ruined the last shreds of civility there were between him and his landlord. Now, Mr Prickhead won't allow Keith on his property ever again, he has no doubts about that.

Shiro moves on the bed a bit, tucking his prosthetic hand beneath his pillow. “I know you don't want to speak about it but…" he begins in a suspiciously unsteady voice then clears his throat. Keith looks at him then, noticing flushed cheeks and the nervous, tight line of Shiro's mouth. “I uh— I have a guest bedroom that has only been gathering dust for years now.”

Keith really needs his morning dose of caffeine. “What?”

Shiro blushes, heavy and uneven and all the way up to the tips of his ears. “I uh— Um, I don't mean to uh—” Shiro stammers then bites on his bottom lip in an attempt to shut himself up. Keith is too dumbfounded for anything but to stare at Shiro with his eyes wide.

“What I'm trying to say,” Shiro begins again, “that there is a place you're welcome at and uh— Black really likes you and my building has a nice basement parking and Hunk's diner is close and I just thought—” He trails off again, eyes gleaming, and Keith stares at the ring of pale gold around Shiro's pupils he has never noticed before until now. His words, however, take too long to process, a part of Keith refusing to believe he's hearing them right, that this isn’t a dream.

Shiro squirms. “Keith, please say something.”

He has to blink the sudden moisture away. “You don't have to do this.”

“But I want to,” Shiro exclaims. “I want you to be happy, okay?”

There’s definitely something in Keith’s eye.

“ _Shiro._ ”

He murmurs something under his nose, brows pinched.

“Look, I get it why you don't want to get in-between Lance and Allura — they are a handful right now and probably will be like that for a while ,” Keith manages a "You can say that again" snort, “and Arus isn't at its best economically, not for the last half a decade at the very least. Fuck, you’ve just barely made it out of that shit job, how the fuck are you supposed to—”

Shiro cuts himself off, breathing in deeply. Keith's heart rams so strong he has no doubts Shiro feels his pulse beating beneath his fingertips.

“I don't want to inconvenience you,” Keith murmurs. Shiro looks like he's about to breathe fire.

“Who made you think that?” he demands. “You'd _never_ inconvenience me, Keith, I _care_ about you. I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy.”

“Oh. I—” _Why are you so damn kind?_

There is nothing for Keith at that moment but the overwhelming strength of Shiro's conviction and he knows deep in his core that this honesty is going to last. His own fingers are small and bony when he scrambles to grasp Shiro's flesh hand still cupping his face. He knows he's shaking, he knows his first instinct is to close in on himself but he makes a step forward instead, perhaps for the first time in his life willing to trust.

“We must split the rent.”

“You don't have to worry about the rent — I've already paid for the next quarter and my landlady is a sweet, reasonable person and— wait,” Shiro stops, blinking a few times. “Keith, are you—?”

“Then let me help you with groceries and cleaning and any other chores,” Keith insists. Shiro's slow grin is goofy, a little silly, and he laughs, the sound so sweet.

“Keith— Is that a yes?”

Keith beams back at Shiro, relief cracking his smile as he chokes out, “Yes.”

Shiro’s face lights up impossibly more. “I'm— I'm so glad. It's going to be amazing! You'll love my coffee brewing skills… Oh, if we rearranged the furniture in the living room you could build an art studio there, it really has the best light in the apartment, and—”

“Shiro.”

Keith turns his head and kisses the inside of Shiro's palm, right at the centre. Shiro doesn’t seem to breathe at that at all.

“You're literally the kindest person I've ever met.”

“Would argue with that—” he huffs out, flustered.

A sigh. “Shiro—”

“I'm quite sure Hunk is the kindest, an angel amongst us mortals—”

There’s a shit-eating grin on Shiro’s face and it’s contagious. Keith laughs despite the turmoil racking his insides. “Okay, fine. Hunk _is_ very kind. I mean, he took me in—”

Shiro snorts, then shamelessly pinches Keith’s cheek. “No self-deprecation speech on my watch.”

“THAT’S WHAT YOU’VE JUST DONE,” Keith hisses in pretend-annoyance. Shiro freezes, then makes a face realising he’s played himself. Sore loser.

“Alright, we’re even.”

“I owe you.”

“You _don’t_ . I want to do this. Our weekend together is the best time I’ve had in… I don’t even know how long.” Shiro speaks fondly, the golden sunlight catching in his white hair and he _glows_. Keith can't — won't — look away. "And I figured that I don't want that to end — that it doesn’t have to end."

Keith, who’s been ready to rant away on how he can’t just live off of Shiro’s kindness, suddenly sees it. All of it. What Shiro tries to tell him, in stumbling words and shyness spilling out of him. Keith’s heart hurts at his effort, at how much it takes out of Shiro to speak this openly but at the same time, he sees triumph and victory, too, for someone who struggled (and still does) for so long to find something to look forward to. Sometimes, having dreams and pursuing them is a privilege not everyone can afford.

And Shiro has just shared something like this — and Keith sees it. Wants it, too, and it’s a much-needed discovery of self and what truly matters to him in the span of a single morning.

Shiro matters. So much.

Keith’s lips wobble but he bites down on them, a silent whimper at the back of his throat. Shiro sees it, an open expression of worry.

“Keith?”

“It’s— It’s so much right now for me,” Keith murmurs, “but I know what you mean. It didn’t even occur to me that— there’s literally nothing that can tell us no. That we can just— spend more time together and—”

Shiro’s thumb caresses Keith’s cheek in a feather-light touch. “I can’t believe that we haven’t met sooner,” he whispers.

“Feel like catching up on all those years?”

“You’re on, Keith.”

Their smiles are a little cracked, a little broken because both have been there, both know what is it like to forget your dreams. Now, however, there’s hope here. Keith’s certainty of it only grows the more he looks at Shiro, the subtle change within him, a new light in his eyes. Shiro needs this about as much as Keith.

"There is something about you,” Shiro says after a pause. “I've noticed it when we've just met, but now I am more than certain."

"Huh?"

Shiro looks up at him, holding Keith's gaze for a few brief moments, then again it slides lower. "It's… It doesn't feel like I know you for what… almost four months? It really _doesn't_ and it's a puzzle to me, because ever since the accident I—" Shiro cuts himself off, then resumes, voice shaking as he forces the words out. Keith shifts in the bed, pulling himself closer to Shiro, offering his presence since nothing he can possibly say would be adequate in a moment like this. "I was fucked up something bad. I wasn't the same, so many things went out of my control and I'm still picking myself up from the pieces left. So, naturally, I've distanced myself from everyone trying to heal on my own, which in turn — among some other things — had hindered my ability to trust people."

Keith, already small and snuggled into Shiro's larger frame, mere inches and a few layers of blankets and nightwear keeping them apart, he still scoots closer, searching Shiro's face, his hand reaching to smooth down the pain, take some of it as long as Shiro's burden eases. Shiro shudders at the contact, his chest rising beneath Keith's fingers as he inhales sharply.

"Yet, ever since I've met you—"

"Something changed?" Keith offers. He can hardly breathe. Shiro never speaks of his accident — only scarce mentions that are mostly there to establish the passage of time. Before. After.

"Yes," Shiro gasps out, voice trembling. "Talking to you, spending time with you, all of it… I'm excited to get up in the mornings because I know you're out there, that I can always turn to you and you'll have my back. This weekend? I feel like it's been a whole vacation I'm _that_ rested, and we aren't even done yet. I enjoy every second I spend with you. I'm— I could _fly._ "

"You're the reason why I draw more," Keith says when Shiro becomes too flustered to say any more and only glances at Keith bashfully. "Not Allura's classes or my own need for it. You. It's all you. I was studying at first, true, but then I sketched Black for you and your reaction — that was probably the most adorable thing I've ever seen. Afterwards, I just couldn't stop. I wanted to see it again and again."

"You did all those doodles for the novel's you've been lending me..."

"Yeah," Keith smiles. "I sketched you a lot, too. You're my muse or something at this point. It freaks me out."

"Why?"

"It's kinda creepy."

Shiro laughs. "It's not. If anything, I'm honoured."

"Okay, I'm not showing you my sketchbooks then," Keith says, shifting a little. Shiro is so impossibly warm, Keith's body relaxes around him into a languid mess.

"What? No? Please?"

"There's too much of you there. It will make you change your opinion of me and I don't want that to happen."

"It would absolutely not!"

Keith rolls his eyes. "Don't make yourself regret offering me to live at your place if it does."

"Wait— Is it something lewd?" Keith hides. "Oh my god, it is, isn't it?"

"I was practising anatomy—"

Shiro cackles, golden. "It's alright, Keith, I don’t mind." After a pause, "We're going to be fine."

"Tell me," Keith asks quietly, a soft mumble against the grey cotton of Shiro's tank top.

And Shiro tells him.

On and on, about early mornings on working days and dinners together, about weekends — or whenever their days off would match — spend hanging out together, music blasting on full. About a shared library, made rather impressive by their combined forces and all the things they are yet to discover. Keith picks up at that, and murmurs about Netflix sessions and all the co-op games out there. Shiro offers that even chores won't be that much of a trouble since it's two of them plus Black, adding after an amused pause that the cat will be more than thrilled to cause mischief for a new human.

They laugh and dream and Keith is mesmerised listening to Shiro, believing in a bright future, a good future. Emotions swirl inside him, quite overwhelming at times and perhaps Keith has simply forgotten how it is like to truly _feel_ , to truly live and breathe and talk and enjoy it, his laughter genuine, his tears, too.

Shiro, who's been hugging Keith for a while now, moves back enough for them to be able to face each other.

"I'd be lost without you."

"You wouldn't. You can read the stars."

Shiro gives him a look full of wonder, silver eyes gleaming suspiciously. "This. This is why."

"What's why, Shiro?" Keith allows himself a teasing pout. "You're speaking in riddles today."

Shiro smiles and shakes his head, his index finger catching a loose strand of Keith's hair and toying with it briefly before he deems it necessary to tuck the lock behind Keith's ear.

"You mean a lot to me, Keith."

"You mean a lot to me too, Shiro."

He hums, pleased like a cat.

The morning passes just like that — in quiet talks and the golden light dancing in the air between until the inevitable need to get their day started has Shiro jumping to his workout routine. Keith stalks to the shower where it all finally catches up with him.

They know each other since the end of August but so much has already passed between them Keith can't think of his life without Shiro in it. It's like he flows in his veins, a new kind of blood cells.

Keith has never even considered that Shiro could offer to be roommates. He's been on his own for so long, it's been years since he's had a roommate, let alone one who isn't Lance, whom he has known as a named brother for decades now so it hasn’t really felt like he has a roommate but lives with his family instead.

He turns on the shower, strips of his shirt and sweatpants and steps under the water. It's barely five minutes in and Keith already lets himself sag against the white tiles. Hot stream beats down on his shoulders and he sobs with both relief and that _thing_ inside him, all those feelings rioting in the body that long since felt numb with grief. It's an overload, it's hands curling into fists, it's a silent scream that rips from his lips.

Keith hasn't felt this much in years. He has never loved before, neither, not with this kind of love that Shiro ignites in him.

He doesn't go out of the shower until his eyes run dry and he regains some semblance of control over himself. His hands still shake as he dries himself and he struggles with putting on underwear but it's something he can work around, and when he returns to their room, chilly air making the hairs rise on his skin, he is… content, of all things.

Shiro is doing his routine with the vigour that comes from their limited time left in Nah-Veer and the considerable list of places they want to visit. Regardless of sleeping in and talking for a long while, it's still barely past nine in the morning. Even then, Keith doesn't want their weekend to end.

“Hey, Shiro?”

“Mm?” comes a response from the floor.

“I know I have to clear the flat on Monday but maybe we could—” Keith trails off lamely, even the tips of his ears blushing when he hears the neediness in his own voice.

"You want to move in sooner?" A nod. “I'm free Friday evening but we need the whole group to help with moving,” Shiro says in-between push-ups. “How about Saturday? Do you have to work?”

“No.”

Shiro grins. “Okay, we need the heavy lifters. Allura definitely can spare some hours, she spends way too much time cooped up with her commissions. Hunk? It would be a miracle if he could come.”

“I know a few guys from the auto shop, I guess they can offer a hand,” Keith says, sitting down on one of the beds. Shiro eyes him with his brow arched.

“What, those _The Rebel Coalition_ guys?”

“With tats and attitude, yeah. I worked there for a year.”

Shiro chuckles. “You must've been quite a sight in their uniform.”

Keith tosses a pillow at him and Shiro yelps in surprise.

“I was a 19-years old grease monkey and it was the best job I've ever had.”

“Aw c' mon, how's working with Hunk?”

Keith barely dodges the pillow aimed at him with some unnerving precision. Shiro is already cooling down with stretches and rolls his bad shoulder more out of habit than from pain. Keith grins at the sight.

“Hunk's alright,” Keith is done drying his hair so now he tosses on a fresh shirt and black jeans. His hoodie is still the N7 one, but it's comforting him with fond memories of yesterday's con. “He pays well, he loves his job, he loves giving us some extra meals and allows to take some with us home. He's still kinda sad though, behind his smiles and jokes. Have you noticed?”

Shiro nods. “I can't quite get him to talk, not even a hint at what is wrong.”

“Maybe Pidge could try?”

“She'd never betray Hunk's trust,” Shiro says as he uncaps a bottle of water. “If he asks her to keep it a secret, it will remain one.”

"...So Lance doesn't qualify as a heavy lifter?" Keith barely holds back his snicker.

"Neither does Matt but we can't really… not ask them to come."

"Pfft. Fuck, _Pidge_. She's stronger than them both."

"The true epitome of the unstoppable force."

"Then it's set?"

"Oh, call me over if you need help packing?"

"You got it."

The boys grow silent as Shiro greedily gulps down the drink. Keith toys with the hem of his slightly oversized shirt and thinks that getting a roommate also means he has to look decent when he's at home, too.

Hell. Shiro makes him want to look decent all the time and his mess of hair really isn't helping. Keith combs through it with his fingers and grabs his red elastic, tying his hair into a loose ponytail. Shiro, who has been rummaging through his bag in search for something clean to wear, gives Keith another one of those looks that get Keith half-hard every time and goes to shower.

 _Maybe I should let it grow out?_ Keith wonders, biting his lip as he watches with longing the door to the bathroom close behind the white-haired man.

 

**SHIRO**

 

Nah-Veer is your typical industrial city, loud, crowded, the sky barely visible with all the skyscrapers blocking it the deeper you delve into the city's centre. To both Keith and Shiro, it seems to be rather mundane and grey, especially given that there is an upsetting lack of parks and greenery. It only seems worse since it is winter and yesterday's snowfall has the entire city in monochrome despite the Christmas decorations adorning every window and shop.

Good thing the company is great, so even if the city doesn’t really meet their tastes, Shiro and Keith still enjoy walking together, exploring stores and coffee shops and occasional architectural masterpieces rather than focusing on Nah-Veer itself. Each with a cup of hot coffee in hand, the boys make their way down one of the particularly busy streets, chatting away until Keith remembers about Shiro's camera and prompts them to find a secluded nook away from pedestrians to take a few grinning selfies.

When they find the first point of interest — a tech store — Shiro stalks inside to look for some stuff Matt has asked him to get since it’s discounted at this particular store network. Keith laughs, calling Shiro an errand boy. Shiro lets him because it really is true.

“I bring him coffee at the Academy, too," Shiro admits as he browses through various kinds of cables in search for a particular one.

Keith looks scandalised. “Seriously? What is he, a diva?”

Shiro is shaking with laughter. “He’s a _genius_.”

“A genius? Please. The other night, he asked me why eggplants are called eggplants if they are not actual eggs you plant.”

Shiro chokes on air. “Okay, maybe he’s just a diva, then.”

Keith cackles, smiling at Shiro as they keep on browsing through the store. Once Shiro finds what Matt needed and pays, Keith has his hand in Shiro’s as they continue walking down the street, turning their faces to the sun as it warms their skin.

Keith looks good today — he always does, really — but a night of rest and a few healthy meals did wonders to him. Shiro wasn’t exaggerating when he said this weekend has him rested, too. He’s light on his feet, matching Keith’s quick pace, and he’s coiled with energy, yearning for something more than his quick workout in the morning. Well, the day is young, and there’s a three-hour ride home waiting for them later, but Shiro can’t stop grinning, can’t stop chatting with Keith, can’t stop slipping into the daydream of this beautiful man by his side moving in with him.

Keith is gloveless in the winter chill, and Shiro’s heart skips a beat that with his warmth-loving nature Keith still gives up on a layer of protection against the cold in favour of holding Shiro’s hand, skin to skin. He tugs at Keith once he spots one of the art stores he’s googled up a few days before the trip. Keith stares at the storefront with confusion.

“Do we really have to go inside? I mean, I don’t really need anything right now—”

“Let’s just browse,” Shiro says, already opening the door invitingly. Keith peeks inside, eyes lighting with interest.

“Only if for a little bit.”

They walk out with a bag of supplies for Keith and an additional set of Winsor & Newton acrylics with a lot more colours than the one Shiro gifted Keith a few months back, and even a bottle of golden paint, too. Keith was mortified when Shiro insisted on paying for all of the supplies and tried to talk him out of it or at least split the bill — Shiro had to say his thanks to the cashier who watched them with a knowing look in his eye and denied Keith’s card in favour of Shiro’s.

Now, Keith clutches the bag to his chest and squeezes Shiro’s hand in adorable, flushed gratitude and promises to return the kindness. Shiro bites on his lip and looks away from him, wondering how long will it take Keith to realise that his happiness is all Shiro wants and maybe, a little bit, of his own.

It hurts, somewhat, to be so scared to actually confess. To voice what he truly feels. Shiro tries, oh he does. He speaks of what is on his mind in the quiet of their room, he wrings the chains from his heart and soul with Keith’s help and belief, he wonders how long it is until he finally tells Keith of his accident, this one last thing about him Keith still doesn’t know aside from the extent of Shiro's feelings. The feelings that only keep growing with each passing day, expanding like a newborn galaxy.

They cross the road and come up to their main goal of the day — the largest of the bookstores on this side of the Balmera’s Spine, a three-story high building with a coffee house on the top floor that serves pastries that rival even Hunk’s baking skill. Shiro is lost in Keith’s excitement, and it is Shiro’s turn to be pulled inside, Keith looking back at him with the widest, warmest grin he’s ever seen on a person before.

“Keith, wait,” Shiro begins. Keith immediately stops, staring at him with curiosity. They are surrounded by books — there are so many here, Shiro’s head spins. “Breathe it in,” Shiro says.

“Um—?”

Shiro closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. “The scent of books, freshly printed and older. The aroma of coffee… Cinnamon… Gosh, I already like it here.”

Keith tries, too, and immediately sneezes. “Shit, sorry.”

Shiro straight out giggles at Keith’s flustered face and can’t help but tease him. “Very romantic, Keith.”

Keith trips over his own feet. “There— There are incense sticks here, look, I’m always sneezing around them!”

“Mhm.”

Keith looks like a kicked puppy. Shiro covers the distance between them in a single step and kisses his flushed cheek, laughing under his breath. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

“I’m not adorable. Absolutely not. No.”

Shiro gives him an amused look. Keith whines but follows him deeper into the store.

It is huge, well-lit, and the bookshelves reach well above Shiro's head. There are quite a few patrons browsing around but it isn't like it is too crowded, and the softly playing music and the Christmas lights adorning displays are just a perfect touch to the whole atmosphere.

If anything, this bookstore seems magical.

Even the amount of titles is quite something. Shiro quickly gets swept away by it, grinning at the familiar names and checking out new releases. Keith whistles at the pretty covers but visibly scowls at the price tags. Shiro keeps an eye on the titles Keith lingers the longest on but he’s not very subtle about it and Keith catches him.

“Shiro, seriously, you can’t just buy everything I remotely like.”

“Science proves that we have similar tastes so whatever you like I’ll like too so it’s a win-win situation because I can always ask you to share.”

Keith blinks at that, then chuckles. “So you trust my judgement, huh?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

Keith gives him a slow, rather naughty smile. “So you’d buy anything I ask you?”

That smile is doing things to Shiro. He tugs at his scarf, too hot under all his layers. “Within reasonable amounts, of course—”

“Hm.”

Keith’s eyes are sparkling, the violet tint so vibrant in the bookstore’s lighting. Shiro licks his lips unconsciously, and he has to force himself to remember they are in a public place, with other shoppers and staff around them because all he wants at that moment is to push Keith into the closest shelf and claim his mouth until Keith can only moan messily around Shiro’s tongue, panting — begging — for more.

_Fuck._

Shiro busies himself with taking off his scarf entirely, wondering since when he’s so openly horny _in public places, for fuck’s sake._ Keith watches him with amused focus, smirking, and Shiro’s hands shake, even the prosthetic one.

“You can’t really read my thoughts, can you?” Shiro asks, suddenly suspicious.

“No. You’re such a dork.”

Shiro is about to reply when there’s a yelp right behind their backs.

“Lieutenant Shirogane?!”

Shiro and Keith turn, both surprised. There are two men — one short with a cocky haircut and the other tall and broad — looking just about as shocked as Shiro is when recognition hits him — they look so different out of their uniform.

“Private Griffin? Corporal Kinkade?”

Both younger men salute him and Shiro laughs. “At ease, at ease. We aren’t really on duty right now.”

“Lt. Shi— uh, Shiro, can I call you that?” James flushes when Shiro nods. “What a surprise! I thought you lived in Arus?”

“I do. Keith and I are just visiting.”

James’ jaw drops and brows fly high up on his forehead. Shiro glances at Keith — who is unusually pale.

“Hello, James,” he finally mumbles.

“Keith? Oh my god, KEITH!”

“Oh, you know each other?” Shiro asks but then has to get out of the way when James sweeps Keith in a tight hug. Keith is flushed, awkwardly patting James’ back.

“Hey. Long time, no see much?”

James pulls away from him, grinning widely. “Where did you disappear to, you asshole?”

Keith shrugs. “I dunno. Life, man.” He eyes James and then his glance falls to Ryan and James dashes to introduce.

“Keith, this is Ryan. Ryan, this is Keith. We’re uh—” There’s a flush on James’ cheeks and he glances at Shiro, biting his lip.

“...on a date, right?” Shiro grins.

Ryan nods, smiling, since James is too flustered to respond.

“My congratulations. This was a long time coming,” Shiro says. “I can’t believe it took you two three years to finally get together,” he adds with a tease.

“Oh my god, you knew?! I’m— I know we’re not really supposed to fraternize—”

“Like I didn’t do it,” he snorts though James still doesn’t look convinced. “I won’t tell Iverson or anyone, you have my word.”

Ryan nods again, in gratitude this time, pulling James a little closer to himself by his waist. Keith is smiling at them, his awkwardness passed.

“It’s so good to see you, Keith. I can’t believe it’s been almost a decade,” James says.

“How do you know each other?” Shiro asks, looking from James to Keith.

“We went to high school together and dated for a while,” Keith explains.

“Until Keith dumped me—” James says with a teasing pout that has Keith rolling his eyes. The pause in the air is tense until they both, of all things, laugh and clasp each other’s arms. You could never tell they are exes with this friendly attitude between them. Suddenly, Shiro is very jealous of that.

Shiro shares a glance with Ryan but he only shrugs, giving his boyfriend a light tug on his sleeve. “Don’t we need to get going?”

“Shit, the movie starts soon—” James frowns, then gives Keith a hard look. “Don’t disappear on me. I now know how to find you.”

“Well,” Keith glances at Shiro, “this is a really small world. Sometimes, I feel like literally everyone has ties to the Garrison.”

“You bet. Nice seeing you, asshole.”

“Have a good date, jerk.”

"Did you really dump him?" Shiro gives in to his curiosity and asks Keith once James and Ryan waved their goodbyes and left the bookstore.

Keith is back to casually browsing through the shelves. When he half-turns to glance at Shiro, his face is unreadable and he only shrugs. "I guess I did."

Shiro pouts and Keith sighs, rolling his eyes. "It's not like I _dumped_ dumped him. We were dating for a few months when I realised I didn't um— that I didn't have feelings for James, that I needed more to uh— to be in a relationship. So I just told him. I didn't want to lead him on."

"It's an honest thing to do. It looks like you've parted on good terms."

"We did. James is a good guy, he understood me. We didn't get along at all when we were younger but um— the rivalry grew into something else and after the break up we remained friends."

Keith picks up a title from the shelf, a beautiful special edition with white cover and the two main characters' portraits on the front. Shiro can't help but lean a little closer to admire the artwork with Keith before he turns the book to read the synopsis on the back and both gasp at the pretty maps they find inside.

"So I take it you and Adam didn't break up well?" Keith asks once they both finally untangle themselves from pointing out the details and subtle emotions of the characters on the front cover of the book and decide to buy it, far too intrigued.

Shiro shakes his head. "We were fighting on and off for about a year, maybe two. By the time the accident happened, we were on a break."

Keith clutches _The Meaning of Sacrifice_ to his chest as he turns to face Shiro fully, frowning at the pain and tremble in Shiro's voice. "Fuck, did he really not—?"

"He didn't even visit me at the hospital. Once I was well enough to use a phone, I called him. He broke up with me right then."

"Shiro—"

"I should've seen it coming, Keith."

"That's so fucking sick, why did he do that?"

Shiro takes the book from Keith's hands and places it into the shopping basket he suspects will be full once they make it to the checkouts.

"He believed I was making a mistake pursuing my career at the Garrison while being sick."

"???"

"My condition was much worse back then," Shiro explains. "I was riding my last good three years. My arm — the one I've lost — was prognosed to start losing  strength and mobility by the time I'd come back from Kerberos."

"What? Kerberos? _The_ Kerberos?" Keith is staring at him wide-eyed.

He smiles sadly as they move on to the next section. "It was going to be a breakthrough for humanity. I was the only pilot qualified to get a ship there — also the youngest. Sam went through so much trouble getting me on the mission since the higher-ups didn't want anyone _sick_ in space for a mission this important…"

Keith looks so hurt. Shiro has always known his sappy story is indeed _sappy_ , but to actually see Keith's pained reaction? He has almost not expected for Keith to be moved this deeply. He really cares.

"But you didn't make it to Kerberos, right? That mission got cancelled… Even I remember it was such a huge scandal. Quite a stain on the Garrison for wasting billions."

"Yeah. I was made the scapegoat for wasting it."

"What?! Fuck, this is bullshit!" Keith rages, fire in his eyes, then stops, frowning as he shifts through his memory. "I— I remember talks of pilot error but how the hell— they were blaming _you_?"

"You know, because I couldn't even drive a— a—" Shiro locks up, words stuck in his throat as the ghost of his pain pierces his right arm. "Nevermind. I can't… Still can't speak of it."

Keith looks at him with concern. "Don't apologise, Shiro. You don't have to tell me."

Shiro could drop on one knee right here and now in the middle of a store in an unfamiliar city and ask Keith to marry him.

"I promised you. I promised you that I would."

"I'm not going anywhere," Keith says firmly. "I won't force you to tell. If you ever want to tell me, it will be on your conditions and right now I—" Keith flushes, silencing himself as there is a group of people passing them. He only continues when they are safely away from anyone's earshot. "I can offer this."

Keith's body is always warm. Welcoming. He's like a bonfire in the middle of a chilly summer night, and Shiro clings to him when Keith opens his arms and envelops him in a tight hug. He's safe in Keith's embrace. He's needed. He's understood.

Shiro hides in the red layers of Keith's scarf, breathing his scent in, that warm vanilla and sandalwood always there. Keith grips him tighter, just right. Perfect, sweet, honest. He kisses Shiro's cheek before stepping back but refuses to let go of Shiro's hand as they resume browsing the books. If anything, it makes Shiro feel better. A promise that Keith won't abandon him. A promise that he won't give up on Shiro.

 

**KEITH**

 

By the time Shiro and Keith make it to Arus, they are halfway through _Captive Prince_ . The bus ride was tenuous, to say the least. Keith's ass hurts from his hard seat and he limps under the weight of his backpack and all the hours they spent exploring Nah-Veer. The only fun part was to slowly watch Shiro realise just what kind of a book they bought. _Captive Prince,_ as far as Keith knows, is one of the more docile titles in the stack of new books but it still had Shiro stopping and staring pensively out of the window. Well, they both are in for quite a ride. Keith’s knowledge of these books is entirely based on Kuron’s whim to point him towards the _Captive Prince_ series, along with giving a vague idea of trigger warnings and some plot points. Keith tried to warn Shiro, but he asked not to spoil him. He still picks up the book after a pause, however, and braves page after page together with Keith, blissfully unaware of the much naughtier novels sitting in a tote bag by their feet.

At least there's a lot of pictures and selfies to look through and a lot of purchases to sort out once they finally make it home. Shiro is a stubborn mule for not letting Keith shoulder the expenses together with him but the ridiculously happy grin on Shiro's face every time Keith thanks him for a gift is… endearing, to say the least. Keith still sketches out a plan in his head of how to repay Shiro, and even if he’s going to have to be stealthy about it, it makes him feel better.

Now, they haul their tired bodies to their district, a lazy, sated silence between them. Arus, after a few days of their absence, doesn't seem to be that much of a sore sight on the eyes. Keith’s heart is lighter now, too, and the sight of the familiar streets is welcome.

Shiro stops once they approach his building and eyes Keith with a grin slowly tugging at the corners of his lips.

“So.”

“So?”

Shiro clears his throat. “The trip is officially over, huh?”

Keith re-adjusts the straps of his backpack. “One hell of a trip. It’s been fun.”

Shiro shifts his weight from one leg to the other. “I’ve been thinking if you—” He’s cut off by his phone going off in his pocket with _Sunflower_ as a ringtone. Shiro promptly fished out the device and grins. “It’s Matt. Let me answer this really quick.”

Keith nods, indulging himself in admiring Shiro’s profile accented by the lights of cars driving past them. It’s late evening, it’s rather chilly, but Keith is warm and fuzzy and a little out of breath standing next to Shiro.

“Yeah, sure, I got it. Yeah, you can. Is Pidge with you? Great! Okay, get your asses here.”

Shiro grins as he hangs up. “So, Keith—  _Callin’ it quits now, baby, I’m a wreck—”_

Keith’s jaw drops. “Are you singing now?”

“ _Crash at my place, baby, you’re a wreck—”_ Shiro’s shit-eating grin is quite something. “No, really, Keith, let’s hang out some more.”

“You’re not tired of me?”

“No! Never!” Shiro offers his hand invitingly, tall and handsome and so bright he’s the sun, the _sunflower._ Keith takes his hand without any hesitance and picks up humming along with the lyrics together with Shiro. It develops into a full-on duet by the time they make it to Shiro’s apartment and distracts Shiro a bit from getting sad over the fact Black isn’t here to greet them, though not five minutes later the Holt siblings come bursting through the front door.

“THERE YOU ARE, YOU PUNKS!!!” Matt yells, Pidge snickering at his heels as both siblings tackle Shiro and Keith into a tight welcome back hug.

“Ow, ow, careful there,” Shiro mutters when his prosthetic gets squished between too many nerds.

Pidge is already pulling away, eyes gleaming as she and Matt just shower Shiro and Keith with questions. It takes for Keith’s belly to growl loudly in hunger for the assault to stop as Matt dashes back to bring two boxes of pizzas he dropped on the table by the door. All four then settle in Shiro’s living room and, after letting Keith stuff himself with food, the Holts resume bombarding them with questions. Shiro deems it the perfect time to drop the bomb that Keith will be moving in with him — it has Pidge and Matt gasping and then bursting with congratulations, patting Keith’s back so hard he nearly chokes on his bite of pizza and then doing the same to Shiro, only with naughty looks and the “took you long enough” comments along the way.

Once that somewhat quietens down, Shiro, always the clever one, hooks up his camera’s memory card to his laptop and sets up a slideshow for everyone to watch. It doesn’t even cross Keith’s mind that Shiro and he are sitting too close on the couch — he only notices when Pidge gives him a wink, followed by a knowing look.

It takes some narration for photos to make sense, but Pidge and Matt are lit with excitement over the con, even more so when Shiro leaves briefly to come back with gifts for them. Keith sits back, sipping on his cup of black tea, and watches the joy bubble and bounce in the room. Shiro is smiling, so happy, moving around the room and showing off all the stuff they’ve bought. Keith stalks off to show his purchases, too, and the stack of books along with the art supplies. Shiro beams, flipping through the Stucky zine again, Pidge leaning over his shoulder to have a look, too.

Matt ends up sitting down with Keith, though he has his eyes narrowed as he gives Keith the once-over.

“What is it, Matt?”

The oldest Holt sibling glances at Shiro, then back at Keith. “So… You two are a thing now?”

“Meaning?”

“You’re gonna live with Shiro,” Matt emphasises the word “live”. “Not to mention all the gifts… You two have some sugar daddy kink going on?”

Keith stares at him dead on. “We’re not together.”

“Yeah, and I’m the Princess of Altea.”

“No, seriously. We’re not dating.” Wow. It really hurts to say that. “Shiro offered to be roommates because I’m unable to find rent I can afford.”

Matt sighs, long and tired. “Wow. Okay. Just— take care of him, alright?”

Pidge squeaks when Shiro shows her the galaxy cube, and sprints out of the living room to the kitchen to stare at all the holographic stars in the darkness there. Shiro has to fight back laughter, listening to her amazed babbling. Matt and Keith watch him quietly and he notices, grinning back at them.

“He’s been through a lot, Keith,” Matt murmurs. “I don’t want to see his heart broken again.”

“Neither do I.”

“Good,” Matt says, giving him another hard glance that softens after a beat. “Jeez, you really look much better now. Even glow a bit.”

Keith runs a hand consciously through his hair. “Do I? The trip’s been long…”

“It’s not what I’ve meant, buddy.”

Keith frowns, not really catching his meaning. Matt sighs, patting Keith’s knee a few times before he gets up and joins his sister in the kitchen. At that, Shiro returns to his spot by Keith’s side.

“Matt didn’t bother you too much?” he asks with concern.

Keith shakes his head a no. “Just asked a few things. It’s nothing.” He'll have to think over everything that happened in the last few days once he gets back to his own flat. It's somewhat too much for him right now, so Keith just lives in the moment and right now it is Shiro who has his attention.

Shiro huffs but doesn’t press on it. Keith somewhat forgets they aren’t alone and loses himself in just sitting there together with Shiro, his body aching with exertion but his spirits, his soul elevated.

He hasn’t felt so much in a long while. Truly _felt,_ joy, happiness, excitement… love. Shiro has his head cocked to the side, messy white bangs falling on his face. His cheeks are rosy with health, and the sharp jawline makes something twist inside Keith’s gut, an urge to kiss it, to imprint the shape of it in his memory with touch, with caress.

“Thank you for inviting me to go with you, Shiro,” he says quietly. “It’s… I really needed it.”

Shiro smiles fondly. “I needed it too, Keith. I’m so happy we’ve spent time together.” His gaze falls to Keith’s lips, and Keith’s own gaze follows Shiro’s rosy tongue as he licks his slightly chapped lips. Shiro flushes, stammering out, “I loved it together with you.”

“I loved it too, Shiro,” Keith echoes, leaning forward until his forehead touches Shiro’s and they just breathe each other in. Sweaty, tired, so fucking loved. Keith’s heart is about to burst, over and over.

“JESUS, GET A ROOM!!!” Matt yells from the kitchen, prompting them to bang their heads together as they scramble away from each other.

“Fuck you, Matthew Whatever Holt,” Keith says over the couch. Matt flips him off, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“I feel like I’m the only grown up here,” Pidge deadpans with infinite tiredness as she comes back from the kitchen with a bowl of Shiro’s favourite chocolate ice cream and plops on the couch like she owns the place.

Neither Keith nor Shiro argue with her, but it still a subtle glance between them, and Shiro’s hand covers Keith’s briefly before he gets up to bring the culprit back from the kitchen.

Keith smiles warmly, watching Shiro's retreating form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god they were roommates
> 
>  
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/voidslantern)


	22. how did i get by this week, i only touched you once

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like you all to know that Keef is very huggable. It's practically irresistible.

 

**SHIRO**

 

Keith has clearly not been expecting to have Lance and Allura show up at his doorstep along with Shiro when he'd promised to come over to help Keith with packing but he still beams, a hint of tired wariness lifting from his eyes at the sight of them. It only helps that Shiro sweeps him into a tight hug — followed by a scandalized "Hey!" from Lance who usually has the honour of hugging Keith first (but not today). Shiro doesn't let Keith go until he laughs into the spot where Shiro's neck and shoulder meet and turns enough to tease him, his voice barely above a whisper,

"Did you miss me that hard, Shiro?"

Lance and Allura have already slipped inside the apartment so Shiro doesn't hesitate to give Keith a peck on the cheek as his answer. Keith laughs again.

"This week's been the longest in my life," Shiro admits when Keith lets go of him after hugging him tightly back. Shiro wishes it lasted a little longer so that he could centre himself, find peace of mind just holding Keith and breathing in his scent. Fuck, he’s missed him.

"Same here," Keith murmurs, still standing close enough to Shiro that he can count the black lashes framing his eyes. There's a crash followed by a loud yelp coming from the apartment and Keith immediately makes a face. "Damn. Let's go inside before Lance destroys everything I own."

Shiro grins and follows him, lingering just a step back to run his gaze down Keith’s form. Today, he’s dressed in a simple white shirt with its sleeves rolled up and a pair of faded jeans that somehow make his legs seem even longer than they are. It makes Shiro lag a little, his mind immediately slipping into a daydream that turns reality when Keith looks back at him and offers that clever smile of his, gaze racking over Shiro's own body.

Shiro’s heart rams in his chest, echoing the soul-bound pull Keith has on him.

It’s selfish to wish it was only the two of them today but it wouldn’t make the job done, not with what Shiro has on his mind as he steals another glance at Keith’s divine legs and little round ass, completely and utterly bewitched.

Lance’s pointed cough brings Shiro back into focus and he does his best not to blush under his unimpressed stare.

“Guilty as charged,” is all Lance says since Keith is already out of earshot and Allura has taken off her coat and boots and padded into the apartment’s main room. With just the two of them in Keith’s small hallway, the air rings heavy with the awkwardness confronting the quiet amusement.

Shiro’s fingers can’t quite catch the zipper of his parka and he blushes in earnest. “I um—”

“Nah, Shiro, don’t try to explain anything to me,” Lance says quietly as he kicks off his own boots. “I’m not blind, you know, I see where this is going.”

“Well—”

“Shiro, _relax,”_ Lance says pointedly, his blue eyes staring intently at him. “You’re a good guy. I’m still watching you — but you’re honest with Keith. Kind.” His voice lowers so that Keith and Allura won’t overhear them. Shiro is barely breathing — Lance rarely speaks with him like this, let alone so openly and about Keith. “If there could ever be anyone for him — that is definitely you.”

“Lance, we aren’t together.”

A tired sigh. “I know you aren't but from where I'm standing it doesn't— Nevermind. Give him time. He’ll come around.” Lance pats Shiro’s shoulder and offers him a dashing smile. “Keep my buddy safe, Shiro.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

Lance leaves Shiro alone in the hallway and he stands there for a whole minute, staring pensively into the small mirror by the wardrobe, his scarf still looped around his neck, until Keith comes after him and Shiro looks at him with new eyes.

Keith immediately frowns. “Is everything alright?”

“Y-yeah!”

“...Are you sure?”

Violet eyes are staring up at him, thick black brows lowered in concern as Keith reaches his hand subconsciously towards Shiro and he shivers involuntarily at the contact.

“Yeah. I think Lance’s just— warmed up a bit towards me.”

Keith looks behind them at Lance and Allura already busying themselves with emptying Keith’s bookshelf and putting the books into cardboard boxes Keith has prepared for it.

“Lance has always liked you, Shiro,” Keith says as he looks back at him, head tilted to the side a little and inky black hair framing his face in beautiful, slightly curled locks. “I think he just doesn’t know how to approach you.”

“Not after Samhain, no.”

Keith shifts on his feet a little, biting on his lip. “No, not that. Lance looks up to you a lot.”

“He does?”

“Yeah. And he’s not that confident as he tries to seem, so…” Keith trails off, shrugging, but he doesn’t really have to explain it. It’s still quite a mix of feelings for Shiro — for both receiving Lance’s blessing and for finding out he’s someone the man admires. It’s— unexpected but welcome, yet it still turns Shiro's world upside down.

“I’ve never thought I’m the kind of person someone would look up to.”

Keith looks utterly horrified. “What?! You can’t just— Shiro, what the fuck, _have you seen yourself?!_ There is nothing about you not to admire!”

Shiro’s lips twitch into a smile, quite touched by Keith’s passion. It still doesn't change the fact there is little about him that he sees so inspiring… though Shiro is notorious for being a bad judge of his own character.  He can't help but hide behind humour since he's a little overwhelmed parsing through the whole situation.

“I wasn’t looking for some sort of validation or attention even but damn— Feels good. Tell me more?”

Keith groans, rolling his eyes. “Oh no, what have I wrought?”

“Aw, Keith—”

They stare at each other for a heartbeat, trying to keep up the act but the suppressed laughter bubbles inside and Keith is the first one to break character, bursting with it and shortly followed by Shiro. He clasps Keith’s shoulder, in part because he needs to steady himself, in part because he craves the contact so profoundly it hurts not to be in Keith’s orbit.

Keith straightens with effort, wiping his eyes, and his voice is a little raspy as he speaks, shifting to a more serious tone. “Anyway, don’t tell Lance I told you that, okay? There would be no living with him otherwise.”

“You aren’t going to live with him, exactly…”

“Shiro, you do realise that by inviting me to be your roommate you’ve also signed up for Lance as a free-deal package?” Keith laughs out.

Shiro rolls his eyes. “You’re getting Allura and the Holt siblings. I think it’s an equivalent exchange.”

Keith shoves him lightly but both grin at each other and just stand there for a moment, alone in the hallway as the early morning rolls on. There is a lot of work for them to do before noon but neither acknowledges any of it.

Just them right now. Only them.

Reluctant to break the spell, Keith takes Shiro’s hand, metal fingers curling around Keith’s soft flesh, and pulls him after himself into the main room. “C’ mon, Shiro. We’ve a deadline, remember?”

Allura greets them with a perfect brow quirked in amusement as they enter the room still holding hands but Shiro doesn’t really mind. He grins and joins the packing party, watching Keith subtly from the corner of his eye. Lance offers a nod, smiling at Shiro, too, and for the first time ever since the Monsters and Mana night at Alfor’s house he feels like that subtle, invisible breach between him and Lance has begun to heal.

Together, the group makes slow but steady progress with packing. It isn’t much and Keith has already started packing yesterday but everyone keeps getting distracted by banter or random stuff Lance keeps pointing out, telling stories from their friendship and when they were younger. It somewhat gets out of hand for Shiro when Lance teases Keith’s baby pictures, his mannerisms somewhat that of a drug dealer in a dark alley asking if you’d like some. Shiro manages to catch a glimpse of a cute, chubby baby being held tenderly by a handsome young man with a strong jaw and hair almost the same shade as Keith’s — the sight is impossibly sweet and no small amount of Shiro’s heart melts at it. However, this indulgence is short-lived. Keith cuts in by yanking the battered photo album out of Lance’s grabby hands and secures it carefully away in a box that Shiro later will mentally label as “Keith’s Current Sketchbooks”.

“Aw c’ mon, Keith,” Lance draws out. “I wanted to show Shiro and Allura the cute li’l baby you were.”

“We all were cute li’l babies, Lance. There’s nothing special to look at.”

Shiro frowns at the little hints of hurting in Keith’s voice but it is Allura that stops Lance with a shake of her head. “Not now, okay?”

She gets up from the couch where she’s been taping the boxes shut and approaches Keith, his back turned to the rest of the room. Shiro and Lance hardly breathe as they watch her lean a little into Keith’s personal space — Shiro still has to accept the fact that Keith doesn’t like people touching him when he lets Shiro do whatever he wants with him — and in a quiet tone asks him,

“Hey, are you alright?”

Keith doesn’t move from where he’s sorting through a pile of old tech but Shiro still sees the tension in his stance.

“I’m fine, Allura, thanks for asking.”

She glances back at Shiro and Lance and shakes her head a little before taking a deep breath and placing her hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Keith, if there’s anything you’d want to talk about—”

He looks up at her and even if Shiro only sees his profile, it is still an intense sight. “I know. Thank you. I appreciate it but—" A slow head shake. "It’s been years. I’m done grieving.”

Lance, “Ah. The classic Keith defence. Ten out of ten.”

Keith turns. “Look, I know I’m your resident asshole—”

“Oh my god, we need to put it on a shirt!”

“Fuck, Lance, _no_. As I’ve said, I’m done with it. I can’t change my past but sure as hell I won’t let it damage my future.”

"It's okay to let it get to you sometimes, Keith," Shiro says. "I miss my parents every day, and my grandparents, too but… I like to think they still live on — in my memory and my brothers'. It hurts but it's a way of coping."

"It's never easy," Allura adds. "Everyone deals with loss differently but no matter what — you can't give up on your own happiness, too."

Keith's jaw works and he looks down briefly as if defeated but when he looks up again, the fire of determination gleams in his violet eyes. "Thank you, guys. And I'm sorry for my outburst. None of you deserves to see me like that."

Lance sighs as he lifts himself up from the couch and crosses the distance to his best friend in a few quick strides of long legs and unceremoniously tackles Keith in a bone-crushing hug. Keith yelps but doesn't protest and hugs him back tightly, too.

Shiro runs a hand through his hair and looks at Keith, smiling proudly at him. Last time the grieving got the better of Keith, he ran. Now, he is able to talk about his dad not only with his friends — just a week ago, Keith openly talked about it with his favourite author. That alone is a huge step, especially in a subject so personal.

Their gazes meet and that tension still somewhat there beneath Keith's skin eases a fraction. Allura grins, too, following where they both are looking, and still shoots a teasing wink at Shiro as she is the next one to pull Keith in for a hug, too.

“That attitude is still right on the path to healing, Keith,” she says, then adds, “even if a little aggressive.”

“That can’t be helped, Princess!” Lance quips, going to pick the taped boxes up (then promptly putting them down and picking only one up) and makes his way to the hallway where they’ve been stacking all the stuff for convenience later on.

“That’s just my voice?”

“It’s a good voice.”

“Shiro, can you not be so obvious?”

“But Allura—”

Keith laughs quietly at the ensuing bickering but the moment of vulnerability is quickly dispersed, the atmosphere once again light and easy. Shiro still spies Lance taking his moment to approach Keith and they talk for a little between themselves as Shiro and Allura get on with unloading the kitchen.

She still gives Shiro a hard look that is so eerily similar to the one Lance had burned him earlier with it makes Shiro’s skin crawl from deja vu.

“I know you’re my best friend and I love you, Shiro, but please, please, I beg you—”

“???”

“Get your shit together. Ask him out. _Properly._ ” Allura’s voice is clear and it rings well through the small apartment despite her speaking lowly. Shiro looks over her shoulder to see if Lance and Keith are listening but thankfully they are busy on their own.

“Allura, I’m not going to do it _right now._ What will Keith think? That I’m asking for it as payment for rent?”

In anger, Allura looks about as deadly as a lioness. “It’s getting impossible to watch you two. I’m the one in a relationship right now but it’s you and Keith that are all sickeningly cheesy-sappy." She purses her full lips. "I don't know why you are so vague about Nah-Veer with me but I suspect something _did_ happen. You've come back a changed man, Shiro, and so did the relationship between you and Keith."

“But—”

She cuts him off with her index finger raised and pointed accusingly at him. “The hand holding? The cheek kisses? The longing glances? Don't tell me all that stems from your _friendship_.”

Shiro stops mid-movement, a stack of plates in his suddenly unsteady hands. He thinks back to just today and all the physical contact both of them seem to crave, the crooked smiles and looks that last longer than it is necessary… and that is just today.

“Oh.” Shiro’s flesh fingers brush his lips, the recollection of the sweetest mouth he’s ever kissed pressing against him again. “Oh.”

Allura looks at him sympathetically. “Do you see now?"

Neither has ever brought up what exactly is their relationship since perhaps acknowledging how much they mean for each other seems a lot more important but… They've kissed. They've spent hours cuddling in bed. Where Shiro might have believed once that Keith doesn't want him — not with his load of baggage and that elephant in the room that is his accident — now that belief evolved into a quiet hope that his feelings are being reciprocated.

Unless, of course, something happens that ruins this vulnerable thing growing between them.

Shiro nearly growls. No. He won't let that happen. He loves Keith and losing him is too painful of a thought.

“I do. Fuck, I do.”

“Good. Do something about it, Shiro.” She straightens up, her chin held high and posture royal and graceful. “And that’s an order, Lieutenant.”

Shiro doesn’t question it and salutes Allura. Wow. Lance might be calling her a princess but there’s more to her than even that but her presence helps Shiro to calm himself and focus on the task at hand instead of the feelings threatening to rip his being in shreds.

Keith's kitchen is neat and somehow he's managed to empty his fridge by the time of moving out so there are barely two boxes of utensils and random things one needs for cooking once Shiro and Allura are done emptying the shelves and cabinets. Keith still pokes his nose in and fishes out some stuff he says he wants to throw out.

Then, it's Keith and Shiro moving on to the main room while Allura and Lance go for the few belongings still left in the hallway.

Somehow, Keith trusts Shiro with going through his desk and Shiro’s hands linger on the art supplies he recognises Keith uses at Allura’s classes, or on the sketchbook he remembers from that time at the beginning of their acquaintance when Keith doodled at The Lion’s Diner. Keith watches him subtly from the corner of his eye but doesn’t comment and only squats in front of the desk as he opens the bottom drawers and empties them until he reaches the lowermost one, revealing old and battered sketchbooks and watercolour albums.

“Hm. I don’t really need these.”

Shiro’s heart sinks a little. “What?”

“These are really old. I think my Pa was still around when I was using them.” Keith rises and shows one of the albums literally fall apart in his hands. “I really don’t want to cramp up your apartment with my trash so I’ll just throw these out, I guess.”

Shiro catches Keith’s hand before he does that. “Keith, no! Please, don’t do this.”

Keith gives him a completely weirded out look. “Why not? I was just doodling, there’s nothing—”

“How will you see how far you’ve come if you throw them out?”

Keith bites his lips at that but then shakes his head anyway, still so stubborn about it. Shiro’s fingers slide a little lower down Keith’s wrist until he offers a soothing caress over the back of his hand.

“If you don’t want them, give them to me or to Lance but please, don’t throw them out.”

Keith follows the gesture, turning his own palm so that their fingertips brush and there’s this open fascination in Keith’s gaze as he aligns their hands until their palms are pressed against each other. Shiro’s heart does that little funny thing that probably means it wants to jump out of his throat or give him palpitations but the sheer size difference between them is truly astonishing.

Shiro has always known he’s tall and big but in comparison to the finely-boned and lithe Keith, it is more than evident. Shiro's hand is broader, fingers longer and thicker than Keith's. Something tells him that Keith’s thought process isn’t far off from his own though Keith’s pupils are blown and the pink lips part slightly staring at their palms pressed together.

Keith's voice is hoarse and low in that peculiar way of his that always raises goosebumps across Shiro's skin. “...Alright. You can have them, Shiro.”

He smiles softly as Keith takes the whole stack of the albums — over a dozen pieces at first glance — and hands them to him, their hands brushing again and Shiro swears even his bionic one gets shivers from Keith’s touch.

“Thanks, Keith.”

There’s tenderness in Keith’s gaze as he watches Shiro take the albums, somewhat not at all shying away from just stopping there and holding them close to his chest before moving on with packing them away. They do not talk much afterwards and make quick work of emptying Keith’s desk — not without Keith still throwing out some stuff he claims to be broken — and move on to help Allura and Lance who have been more busy flirting than actually doing their task.

Just before noon, they are finally done with packing, only a few boxes left to tape but it is quickly taken care of. Almost immediately after Allura closes the last one, the front door — and the entire apartment — shudders with the demanding knocking.

"That must be the rest," Keith says and dashes to open the door. Shiro catches a glimpse of Keith's form before he gets swept away by the tsunami composed of Pidge, Matt, and Hunk. He stops to watch, leaning his bad shoulder against the doorframe, and smiles to himself watching them all greet each other, tease, and laugh.

At the end of summer, Keith hardly allowed himself to be friendly and silly, always that wall of defence high up around him. Now… God, now the change in Keith is so subtle to some since it happened gradually but so evident to Shiro.

Keith grins and jokes around, beaming so hard his cheeks dimple, and holds his ground against the striking mix of personalities of the Holt siblings and Hunk seemingly effortlessly. It’s been said before that Lance and Keith have filled the empty spaces in their found family and now it is only growing more and more apparent.

Like it is meant to be.

Keith’s phone goes off in his pocket and he has to extract himself from the newcomers’ attention to quickly type out a few texts.

“So Rolo will be here in fifteen,” he announces.

“Who’s Rolo?”

“The guy with the truck.”

“Ah, that bastard,” Lance says, huffing around the mountain of boxes as he tries to find a place for the last one. “Prepare to be corrupted.”

“Why?” Shiro asks.

“You know, one moment you’re just chatting with Rolo and the next you find yourself handcuffed to a tree and your ride’s stolen.”

“That was your own damn fault, Lance. Who the fuck leaves the keys in the ignition?”

Pidge’s laughter booms through the tiny apartment. “Oh, I know that one.”

“What, how?”

“Keith didn’t tell any names but this story was a hit at work. Lance, it’s only fitting it was you—”

“Aw, c’ mon, not you, Pidge—” She cackles on and Lance pouts and turns with a dramatic flourish to his girlfriend. “Allura, save me from these cruel people—”

Shiro cackles along with the rest as Allura struggles to keep her face comforting as she gives Lance a few sympathetic pats on the back as he seeks her hugs. Laughter still escapes from her lips and she hides in the crook of Lance’s neck, sobbing a little when he whines offendedly.

Hunk uses the few moments they’ve got before the inevitable heavy lifting happens to offer a few homemade snacks to everyone. Shiro moans around his bite of a strawberry macaron and offers praise to Hunk along with everyone else.

He’s never noticed that before but gravitating towards Keith even when they are in a tight, crowded space is a thing he does unconsciously and before he even acknowledges it Keith has his hip brushing Shiro’s thigh casually and there’s nothing innocent in the way how he licks his fingers after the snack while holding the eye contact with Shiro.

Shiro has to swallow down hard and count the distance from Earth to the moons of Saturn but he still catches the all-too-knowing glances of their gang on them. Pidge and Matt look at them with apparent amusement and share a few dirty looks before Pidge nods to something Matt says. Deep in his bones, Shiro knows it can’t be good. Not when Hunk leans over Pidge’s shoulder and says something too quietly for Shiro to catch but he knows they are discussing them just by their expressions alone. Allura’s and Lance’s words roll through his mind and it is somewhat concerning at this point.

They know.

They all know.

It’s too late for Shiro to realise Keith has been trying to get his attention for a few moments now and it takes him to pull Shiro on the sleeve of his shirt to get him to look down at him and—

Well.

Before the accident, Shiro used to take his Garrison-issue hoverbike and fly away into the wilderness, just him and speed and thrill from the flight, not a single fuck given about safety or his own life when he’d boost his bike’s thrust just before the ground would end before him and just dive into the cliff drop, yelling and laughing, adrenaline thumping in his veins.

Keith strikes Shiro similarly. Maybe even harder than that. Maybe even harder than Shiro’s first step on the moon did.  

“Gosh, you really—” Shiro catches himself on time, realising that he’s speaking out loud when Keith leans in to listen to him, the chatter of their friends effectively blocking out his voice. Shiro blushes and looks down at the tips of his boots. “Sorry. You were saying?”

“Are you alright, Shiro?” Keith asks, searching his face. “You’re acting strangely today.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah. Kind of. Um—”

Pidge’s voice carries high and bold over the apartment. “Oh my fucking God, I can’t believe them—”

Shiro and Keith look up, confused when everyone stares dead-on at them.

Both, “???”

“Okay, where’s that Rolo guy, we have to get this thing going already. It's really hot in here, don't you think?” Hunk says, fidgeting with the collar of his unbuttoned coat. Keith finally remembers to check his phone again and confirms that the man is indeed waiting downstairs.

“Alright, time to roll out,” Shiro says as the group scrambles to their feet and throwing their outerwear on.

“Hey, did you notice that the elevator doesn’t work..?” Matt says pensively as he pokes his head into the hallway and assesses the stuff they all are about to carry.

Pidge and Allura shoulder past him, both effortlessly picking boxes and giving the rest hard looks. “Pussies,” they say in unison and kick the front door open.

There’s dead silence in the room that only Lance breaks, whispering, “My girlfriend is so damn hot like— Woah.”

Keith shoves him lightly and picks up the next box. “C’ mon, boys.”

Shiro suddenly really regrets it is winter outside and he can’t see the lean muscles bulging beneath the white cotton of Keith’s shirt as he picks the heaviest one and easily walks out with it. That coat is nice on Keith but stripping him out of it must be a lot better.

Even if there is a lot of work ahead, Shiro’s mind is firmly set on Keith and how it will be like once the day is done and he’s settled at his new place. Daydreaming about it while he can, Shiro still stumbles for words when Hunk asks him something, catching him off-guard and too deep in the thoughts of Keith.

 

**KEITH**

 

Rolo is already chatting with Pidge and Allura as he helps the girls get the stuff into his truck. The moment he sees Keith, he immediately beams and pulls him in for a handshake the moment he lowers the box he’s been carrying, too.

“Hey, kid, good to see you again.”

Keith smiles, taking a moment to note the years have finally been kinder on Rolo, and his usually tall and dangerously skinny self finally managed to gain some fat on his ribs. It doesn't stop a few streaks of silver whisk their way into the man's messy hair and there is definitely more wrinkles in the corners of his eyes.

“I’m not a kid anymore — but you’re still an old man.”

“Damn, no one has put a muzzle on that mouth of yours yet?”

Keith barks a laugh when Shiro joins them and overhears Rolo’s words, his eyes going wide. “Shut up, Rolo, you’re going to break Shiro.”

Pidge snorts into her scarf and Allura offers a sly smile as they excuse themselves and return to the building, chatting to each other merrily.

Rolo’s attention immediately snaps to the white-haired man. “Ah, isn’t that the infamous Shiro. I’ve heard a lot about you from the kid.”

Shiro wipes his palms on his pants and accepts Rolo’s handshake, still somewhat off-guard. “Hi.”

“So, what did you do to get Keith to agree to move in with you?”

“Um, just offered?”

A low whistle. “No way. There must be _something_. Keith ain’t the type to give up his freedom.”

Shiro cocks his head to the side, glancing at Keith in confusion but Keith can only shrug in reply. He honestly has no idea what has gotten into Rolo today.

“It’s not so much about my freedom, old man, but the fact that if it wasn’t for Shiro I wouldn’t have had a home starting this Monday.”

“Okay, okay,” Rolo backs down a little but still eyes them suspiciously. “Still it’s a pretty new thing for you to pull off, Keith.”

“Aw, gimme a break. C’ mon, Shiro. Rolo’s got incoming.”

He does, in the form of Matt and Hunk carrying more of Keith’s stuff. Shiro still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that Keith doesn’t own much, overall, though it’s quite a sight of Matt huffing tiredly under the weight of his cargo (and that’s just his first run). Shiro and Keith get out of their way but it seems Shiro is bursting with silent questions so Keith explains without Shiro having anything to voice.

“I’m not particularly good at uh— the whole “roommate” thing. I should’ve told you this immediately after you offered but I guess I was a little desperate.”

“Keith.”

“No, really— I’m a bit hostile at times. When I’m tired or stressed and—”

They are at the doors to Keith’s apartment at that moment and they let Lance and the girls through before walking in and picking their second round of cardboard boxes. Shiro looks at him with concern and it leaks into his voice as he speaks, too.

“There’s nothing wrong with getting your walls up when you’re uncomfortable. I’m not sunshine and bunnies every day, too — you know that firsthand.”

"Yeah but—"

Shiro stops in the middle of a flight of stairs and turns, meeting Keith's eyes. He's standing a few steps lower so for the first time Keith is able to look into the stormy-grey eyes without having to arch his neck.

"Keith, let's make a deal. Neither of us bothers with worrying for all the things that can go wrong and just— let's do something great instead. Together."

Keith smiles. "That sounds an awful lot like a wisdom from a book."

Shiro blushes adorably, looking down. "Sam told me this once. It’s been helping me through a lot of stuff."

Damn these heavy boxes between them. They are in Keith's way to capturing these lips of Shiro's into an open-mouthed kiss he really yearns for.

"Hey. It's a deal."

"Whatcha guys doing here, huh?" Matt's voice comes from down below. "Having a moment?"

Hunk snorts. "Maybe we're interrupting something?"

Keith bristles. "Yeah, it would've been nice if you'd stop blocking our way."

"Cockblocking—" Matt wheezes out but it is Shiro who gives him a death glare that finally puts him back in line.

Perhaps the teasing is a customary ritual for moving in with someone but this shit is getting out of hand.

It only gets more and more obvious throughout the day that Shiro and Keith are at the centre of everyone’s attention. They’d been caught talking and teased about it. When Keith tried to sneak in a cig together with Rolo as they waited for the truck to get loaded, Lance had immediately snitched him out to Shiro and that look of disapproval made Keith vow to never again touch a cigarette in his life.

The only moments of relative peace and quiet happen when the main bulk of their forces with Allura in the lead, entrusted with Keith’s plants secured in a basket in her lap, finally progresses on to the next stage of moving. Rolo starts the engine of his truck and the whole load of Keith’s possessions finally begins the short journey to Shiro’s building, the rest of their group following it on foot.

Keith and Shiro linger behind, mostly because Keith needs to make sure to check everything one last time and lock up after himself, and Shiro… They are kind of joined at the hip today, and neither notices he’s followed until they are alone back at Keith’s apartment.

Shiro, of all things, flushes bright red and pretends to be busy doing one final sweep of the apartment while Keith gathers up a few miscellaneous things he’s forgotten to pack and puts them all in the lonely basket somehow left behind.

When Shiro returns to Keith’s side, he seems to have regained his usual composure and now eyes Keith with curiosity.

"Well," Shiro asks, his head tilted to the side slightly, "how does it feel?"

Keith surveys the empty shelves and the barren room and shrugs. "There's nothing holding me here."

"No fond memories?"

"Not really. Only…" Shiro smiles at him invitingly, waiting, and Keith gives in. "That time when I was sick just before my birthday and you came to take care of me."

Shiro's smile shifts into a surprised "o", a soft gasp escaping his lips. "I wasn't even sure you've remembered that."

Keith elbows him fondly. "I wasn't _that_ delirious."

Shiro snorts, throwing his arms around Keith's shoulders. Keith gravitates into his embrace, ditching the basket of miscellaneous stuff he's held all this time on the table as he wraps his hands tightly around Shiro's narrow waist and inhales him deeply, content for the scent to fill his lungs and swirl into a coiled knot somewhere at the bottom of his belly. Keith has figured by now what it is and when Shiro leans in, cupping the sides of Keith's neck, Keith cranes it a little, granting Shiro access to nuzzle closer.

 _This is not how friends hug_ , Keith thinks, burying his face in the powerful muscles in Shiro's broad chest. _But what are we then?_

There's a loud bang as the front door gets kicked open.

"HEY MULLET GET YOUR ASS MO— OH MY GOD ARE YOU TWO GETTING NASTY OVER THERE?!"

"For fuck's sake, Lance," Keith says lowly, quite done.

"And what if we are?" Shiro challenges, something new and hard as steel in his voice. Keith looks up at him but Shiro's gaze is firmly set on Lance.

Lance blushes heavily, covering his eyes. "H-holy fuck, um, then, CONGRATZ! I'll be uh— going now—"

The door slams shut hastily behind Lance's tactical retreat.

"...Did I overdo it?"

"Mm… only a little. He'll be fine."

A soft chuckle. "Good."

Shiro's hands slide down, over Keith's shoulders and down his back and he shudders involuntarily when Shiro delves even lower than Keith's waist and rests his broad palms on his hips. It is still good, perhaps even too good, because now Keith yearns for more and yet he still stops himself from showing Shiro he can hold him wherever he wants.

He can't figure them out. Friends, but more, yet not lovers despite having kissed each other more than enough for it to be painfully suggestive they can be more. Neither makes the first move. Keith tried and fucked it up, royally. He isn't good with it, with the relationship stuff. Even with James, it wasn't Keith who initiated it but now… Feelings bubble and swirl beneath his skin and it isn't beyond him to see himself go off at some point. Shiro stepped into his life lightening-fast and claimed and marked him as if Keith was indeed stricken by him.

Keith looks up at Shiro again and their faces are close enough. Just lean up on the tips of his toes and kiss Shiro. Tell him you love him. It's this easy.

Shiro’s lips part as if he wants to say something and Keith can’t help that subtle lean of his whole body.

“I think we uh— we should get going. Lance’s already managed to come back for us— And you still need to get your hoverbike—”

Keith hides his face in Shiro’s chest again. “Just a moment more.”

Shiro chuckles, the sound reverberating through his chest and Keith nearly purrs as he feels the vibration against his ear. Shiro’s palm lifts to card through Keith’s hair and that’s just the most illegal move Shiro can pull off. They aren’t going anywhere anytime soon, not until Keith recharges a bit and gets his dose of Shiro’s sweet attention.

 

**SHIRO**

 

By the time Keith and he finally make it to Shiro’s apartment, the gang has already managed to get everything upstairs and begin unpacking. There’s no sight of Rolo or his truck — it doesn’t seem to bother Keith in the slightest, so Shiro just rolls with it, too.

It still surprises him to see Hunk take over his kitchen and begin preparing an impromptu lunch that quickly escalates into a full-blown “Happy Moving” party, especially once Lance and Allura volunteer to get more food and drinks. Hunk, as always, goes off with his cooking but by now everyone is starving and ends up waiting for it like it’s the only salvation.

Black, thankfully, seems to be absolutely delighted with the number of cardboard boxes he gets all to himself and doesn’t get skittish around so many people in the apartment. Besides, it’s Keith who’s the skittish one, so not used to being at the centre of everyone’s attention Shiro can’t even allow himself to leave his side. Otherwise, Keith would get completely swallowed up by the combined forces of their friends so it’s only natural for them to team up for the defence.

It all reaches a whole new level of awkward when they all are a little tipsy as the evening goes on and at some point, Pidge reaches her absolute limit at the sight of Keith and Shiro sharing an inside joke.

“You aren’t fooling anyone, guys,” Pidge says, her eyes gleaming behind her large round glasses. “It’s pretty much common knowledge that you have the hots for each other.”

The defence crumbles. Neither can deny nor confirm her words. The embarrassed silence is palpable and no one has any mercy for them.

Shiro laughs shyly under their intensity, then clears his throat. “Um alright, moving on—”

“Oh my god, you’re so precious, Shiro, trying to play it cool—” Matt says, reaching up with his hands and pinching Shiro’s cheeks. “It’s alright, we all are friends here and it isn’t exactly news that you’re as gay as it gets—” Shiro struggles to break free but somehow still manages and now he rubs his cheeks, an offended pout on his lips.

“What the hell has brought this up, Matt?”

“Oh, ya know—” a suggestive glance at Keith, “what Pidge said.”

“Yeah! What I said! How does that feel huh?” Pidge pushes Matt with her shoulder. “You two now finally living together, all alone day and night…”

Lance doesn’t need to be told twice and he seamlessly picks up, “Right? All this unresolved sexual tension, I bet the first time either sees the other naked after a shower is going to get it all going—”

“Lance, shut up.”

“But I’m telling you, this is how—”

“We’ve already seen each other naked after a shower,” Keith suddenly deadpans. Everyone — Shiro included — goes very still.

Then, the room explodes.

It takes all of Shiro’s mastery of being an instructor to youths barely out of high school to keep the gang in check and by midnight, Shiro figures his cadets are much more mature than his friends. Keith looks utterly exhausted when finally the front door closes behind Lance and Allura — at least they have stayed behind to help clean up the mess left after the party —and simply slumps into the couch.

“They can be quite a handful,” Shiro murmurs, padding over to sit down on the couch, too. Black finally reemerges from the depths of his cardboard fort and deems their company worthy enough of his attention and settles between them.

“Is it some sort of initiation ritual?” Keith asks, voice still a little hoarse from all the talking they’ve done today. “Like, the whole teasing thing? I don’t get it.”

“Knowing them— yes. Though I’ve never seen them be so intense about it.”

“Must be Lance’s doing.”

“Not necessarily—”

“Trust me, if anything ever goes wrong, it is probably Lance’s fault.”

“You’re really mad at him?” Shiro laughs, leaning forward to rub under Black’s chin.

“The enabler. Ugh. Yeah.”

Shiro laughs some more when Keith hisses as his phone goes off. “Lance?”

“Yeah. I’ll uh— Go get it.”

It’s somewhat amusing to see Keith so unsure of what to do with himself in the new environment and his hesitance brings Shiro worry that Keith’s discomfort might last long enough he’d decide to seek a new home anyway. He still figures the kitchen is alright enough to talk on the phone and shyly sits down there at the table, bickering with his friend.

They’ve never talked much about the terms of Keith’s stay but Shiro is determined to make sure Keith gets his rest. Just looking at him hurts. Shiro didn’t have the heart to bring it up but it doesn’t escape him how tired and somewhat even sunken Keith looks. It’s not even a full week since their return from Nah-Veer but damn. He’s even lost some weight.

Shiro offers Black a few pets until the cat nuzzles into his palm gratefully and gets up, surveying the living room.

When the gang started unpacking during Shiro’s and Keith’s absence, they hadn’t really bothered to consider their say in it.

The books are all stashed in piles beneath the TV though Shiro still spots some of his own titles moved on the shelf to make space for Keith’s. The sketchbooks and art supplies are nowhere to be seen and Shiro has to stalk all the way to Keith’s new bedroom to see them dumped unceremoniously on his bed. It’s probably a fault on Shiro’s side since he’s been waiting for Keith to move in to offer him to go shopping for a new desk so right now the artist is somewhat short of a workplace. Shiro doesn’t touch the wardrobe but judging by a shirt sleeve sticking out of it somebody had already loaded it, too.

Keith shortly joins him, looking completely distraught. “I have no idea where all my stuff is.”

“It’s somewhere. Here. Presumably.”

He whines, shoulders sagging. “I’ll go look for my toothbrush—”

Shiro laughs, still feeling the alcohol he drank warm in his belly — or maybe it’s just from being alone with Keith again but he still shivers as Keith walks past him and opens the nearest drawer, sifting through it a little clumsily. He has drunk more than Shiro, after all.

“Keith… Maybe try the bathroom? I mean, these geniuses have been placing stuff by function…”

Keith looks at him with big bright eyes. “You’re actually onto something here, Shiro.”

He pads over to the bathroom and his hooray is loud and victorious enough to elicit more laughter from Shiro. Keith comes back grinning from ear to ear and simply slumps into Shiro, hugging him tightly. “I can’t believe we gonna live together— Is it a dream? It must be a dream…”

“It’s not a dream, Keith. It’s quite real.”

Keith nuzzles into him, close and strong and a tipsy warm weight that fits perfectly into Shiro’s arms.

“A good real?”

“The best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy sheithversary everyone! i'm a little late with updating WEB for it but who the heck cares XD
> 
>  
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/voidslantern)


	23. i will be chasing a starlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for panic attack

**KEITH**

 

On his first morning at Shiro’s apartment, Keith wakes up to a warm, purring weight on his chest. He doesn’t realise what it is for a long while, his head a little hurting with hangover, but once he finally pops an eye open, he’s greeted by the golden stare of Black’s.

“Hey.”

Black doesn’t move when Keith dares to shift in the bed a little. 

“Do you mind?” The cat only closes his eyes, curling in on himself a little tighter. 

“...”

Keith is effectively trapped. Every time he tries to get up, Black's shiny sharp claws dig painfully into his skin through the thin material of his cotton shirt. It's early but he doesn't feel like going back to sleep. All Keith can do is close his eyes and contemplate his life. One good thing is that he doesn’t have to worry about being late to work — Hunk was generous and understanding enough to give Keith days off to move and settle. 

It's really not quite like him to give up this easily though but no small part of him wants to earn Black's trust. Kicking him off unceremoniously doesn't seem like the right course of action — nor does Keith have the heart to do it. Black is somewhat the sweetest cat he's ever seen despite resembling a miniature panther… and, by Shiro’s words, being as fierce as a lion at times. Though, adorable anyway as he purrs now from time to time, maybe even liking Keith already.

Keith decides to try his luck and carefully reaches for his phone on the nightstand — an actual, proper nightstand, not at all dilapidated and positively sturdy — and decides to risk sending an SOS text to Shiro, quietly hoping he is awake by now.

A few moments after Keith hits send, a low laugh reverberates through the apartment. Keith isn’t even close to being embarrassed when Shiro knocks on the door before coming in and cackles as he frees Keith from Black’s clutches.

"Thanks, Shiro. I didn't want to get on Black's bad side so—"

“Sorry. He’s like that with Kuron when he stays here, too.”

“It’s not a problem,” Keith laughs out, sitting up in bed as Shiro cuddles his cat. “Good morning.”

“Morning, Keith,” Shiro replies, smiling, too, and gives Black a few scratches under the chin. The sight of the two of them, bathed in the rosy early morning light makes Keith’s heart feather-light. He kicks off the blanket and gets up, grinning when Shiro asks if he’s slept well. “I did. This bed is heavenly comfy.”

Shiro lets Black jump down and before Keith can even register the movement, the agile cat has already slipped out of the room. “He’ll be testing you for a while,” Shiro says when he notices Keith’s rather disappointed look. “And teasing. Don’t freak out.”

Keith makes a face. “I don’t mind. I’ll just need a bit of time to get used to living with a cat.”

Shiro lights up with curiosity. How the hell is he so awake so early in the morning? Keith can already feel his inevitable caffeine craving raise head and demand a dose.

“I can’t believe I’ve never asked you this… You’ve never had a cat?”

“No, not really. I only had like a hamster when I was a kid but that’s about it.” Keith sighs. “I always wanted a dog, though.”

They exit Keith’s bedroom — it will take a long time for him to get used to calling it that — and pad over into the kitchen where Shiro immediately sets off to prepare breakfast. He gives Keith a hard look that makes him sit down and not even protest against it, all his attempts to help Shiro with cooking shut down before he even voices them. So now, Keith opts out to watch Shiro's morning routine, trying to memorise where to look for certain things in the kitchen but getting distracted by the grey cotton tee hugging Shiro's back muscles tightly, along with the matching sweatpants still offering the delicious curve of Shiro's ass to be presented before Keith's gaze.

Wow. Okay. It's one thing to get flustered in Shiro's company and then move on with your day but a completely different one when there really is no moving on. Not from Shiro. Not when Keith's sharing an apartment with him now. When he agreed to move in with Shiro, he clearly hadn't taken into account his feelings rapidly growing out of hand. 

It's… new. To be like that with someone he's so attracted to his focus seems singular. Not even a full day in, Keith already finds himself losing his composure and his defence cracks, affection spilling out in a stuttering thank you when Shiro puts a plate of steaming pancakes they both know Keith is weak for in front of him and a bright-red blush at Shiro's brilliant smile.

Shiro seems different, too, relaxed much like Black was while leisuring across Keith's torso. His voice is differently soft, the sounds rolling off in gentleness Keith has never seen in him before, the kind that makes him believe he's something to be treasured like that.

No. Wait. 

Keith flinches, cutting off his thought process abruptly before it carries him too far away, too deep in. 

Shiro is sitting in front of him, eating breakfast with his eyes bright and excited as he still manages to paint their Sunday in vivid colours. Keith listens to him with his free hand supporting his chin, head tilted a little as he lets the deep rumble of Shiro's voice caress his senses.

Shiro is really bothered by the lack of proper desk and enough of bookshelf space for Keith so he proposes to spend the day exploring IKEA together until they would find something appropriate. Keith doesn't let himself linger too much on what this kind of furniture commitment means on his part but the thoughts of Shiro wanting Keith to stay, long-term, still find their way into his mind.

"Are you sure you should spend money on all that so early on?" Keith inquires cautiously but Shiro dismisses it with a quick frown and even quicker reassurance.

"What do you mean? It's something that you need."

"Yeah, but what if this doesn't work out and I'll have to move out?"

Shiro looks so utterly bewildered Keith suddenly realises he's the only one who's thought up the worst-case scenario. "Do you want to? Is something wrong? Did I—"

"No, Shiro, I just—" Keith suddenly flushes. He really is the biggest pessimist around. Shiro is looking at him with hurt confusion and Keith hates himself for ever bringing this up. Way to go. It is barely day one.

He sighs and attempts to recollect himself. "What I'm trying to say is that I'd hate you to regret hasty decisions and… Well. Let me shoulder the expenses. I feel like shit burdening you further."

Shiro sighs, too, a quiet, a little choked out sound. "Keith, you're not a burden. Not to me, not to anyone else."

"Then let me help you, too, Shiro. Let me get that furniture, let me help you with whatever is going on, whatever you need." Keith's voice cracks and he coughs, pausing to gulp down his orange juice. Not a cup of coffee but he’ll get to it soon. 

Shiro is silent and dread fills Keith's belly along with the chilled down beverage. He looks up, searching Shiro's face, and finds him studying him attentively.

"You're insisting on it," Shiro states. 

"Well, yeah. Isn't it the whole point? You support me, I support you. It's mutual, isn't it?"

"Yeah… Equal." 

The word rolls on Shiro's tongue as if he's tasting it. His expression grows unreadable but heavy anyway and every fibre of Keith’s being itches to reach out across the table and hold his hand. 

Black comes to the kitchen and sits down expectantly by his bowls of water and food, the golden gaze drilling holes in Shiro. That seems to drive Shiro out of his thoughts and he springs to action, his unfinished breakfast forgotten as he, suddenly pensive and quiet, goes to feed Black.

"Shiro, wait. You haven't finished eating yet," Keith manages. Shiro turns, staring blankly at his plate. 

"Oh. I—"

Keith's already eaten so he jugs down what's left of his orange juice and takes Shiro's place in preparing food for the patiently waiting cat. He even pushes the larger man out of the way with his hip — and only that seems to make Shiro moving. He doesn’t look at Keith, however, avoiding him as he returns to the table. Neither does he eat properly — just pushes the pancake around on his plate.

What was somewhat sweet a few moments ago grows tense and awkward and Keith blames himself for ruining the mood though he isn't quite sure what he's done, exactly, to set Shiro's mood spiralling. Black offers a nuzzle into Keith’s palm before he jumps to eating but Keith’s gaze is firmly set on the white-haired man.

“Hey. Is something wrong?”

Shiro finally rips his gaze away from whatever the abyss he’s been staring down. “No, no. Sorry, Keith… I just remembered something.”

Keith washes his hands before going to hug Shiro, leaning over him until they are chest to back. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs into his ear and Shiro sighs, patting Keith’s hands in gratitude.

“I’m glad that you’re here with me, Keith,” he says after a few moments of just letting Keith hold him. “And I want this to work out. I’ll try my best.”

“I’ll try my best, too,” Keith echoes, holding him a fraction tighter.

He doesn’t care Shiro probably can feel his frantic heartbeat against his back. Keith has learned not to be afraid to share things with him, even those he doesn’t always feel comfortable sharing with Lance. There are some things he isn't ready to joke about and sometimes that is exactly Lance's way of coping.

Shiro has never made Keith feel like his feelings or concerns are something unimportant. He never does that, not with anyone. No matter what happens, Shiro is always there, ready to listen, ready to help. He’s the backbone of their found family, he’s the force that drives them all together because… It’s true that people flock to Shiro. He’s just amazing like that, a natural leader with the kindest heart ever to beat.

Keith dares a peck to the top of Shiro’s hair — something he has never done with the man awake — and it returns the brilliant, kind smile back on Shiro's face. Keith grins back at him, too, and straightens before the temptation to send all of it to hell and kiss Shiro senseless overwhelms him.

Thus, they proceed with their day.

Shiro cheers up and Keith has to keep up with him as the boys get ready for their shopping trip. Black keeps an eye on them both throughout it all, a steady gaze from one of the highest towers of the cardboard castle somebody had built for him yesterday. Keith still has no heart to bring it all down since the boxes are cramming up the apartment but if there is going to be new furniture delivery it  _ definitely  _ has to go.

Shiro still sweeps Keith away joyfully and before Keith knows it, he’s at IKEA with the man of his dreams looking for a desk and a bookshelf for the apartment they share. It all escalates anyway — Shiro persuades Keith to try out beds and couches and all kinds of things and they spend hours fooling around and collecting weird looks from other shoppers until a security guard begins to ghost them. Shiro’s laughter and charm get them through the trouble — “Seriously, Shiro, where have you been all my life?” “Why?” “You’ve no idea how many times I got in trouble with mall security.” “Pfft, Keith—” — and they walk out with all the stuff ordered and paid for. 

Keith is beaming he could finally pay for his own furniture. Shiro is beaming because he finally persuaded Keith into getting a proper easel for home use.

Later, they spend the rest of the day trying to figure out what the hell did the gang do to Keith’s stuff and try finding the charger cord for his phone. (They can’t find it. Keith is forced to share one with Shiro.) Keith also sorts out the unpacked stuff so that he has a bearing on his situation and with Shiro's help they make everything find a spot where it belongs.

A new glass with toothbrush and -paste now rests by the mirror in the bathroom and the row of Shiro's shampoos is joined with a few of Keith's. Some of Keith's cooking utensils join Shiro's — as much as they can fit them all in the kitchen cabinets, anyway — and Keith's cups and travel mugs now rest at their own spots, too. The most of Keith's plants find a place in his bedroom but a few get to live on the kitchen windowsill. Keith's boots and outerwear find a home in the hallway closet — Shiro freed half of it for him — and he even offers space outside of Keith's room to store the miscellaneous stuff that really doesn't belong anywhere but in the attic they do not have. 

It’s a long day but still a good day. It has Keith’s heart soaring and he can almost feel his inspiration coming back. He even finds a moment to sit down in the living room with his sketchbook in his lap and Shiro buried in a heap of blankets and nose-deep in a book on the other end of the couch. 

He holds his pencil over the paper, ready for it, ready to draw and pour bits and pieces of his soul out but the moment he lowers the pencil and it makes contact with the grainy surface… Nothing. Keith's mind goes as blank as his canvas, and something tired and gloomy fills the spaces where usually his inspiration resides.

He mules over sketching at least something for over a half of an hour. Nothing comes out of Keith’s attempts but he still forces himself to at least do some hatching and practice lines and form. It comes out so obviously forced his teeth hurt just looking at the ruined pages.

Keith sighs and puts his sketchbook away — only to find himself listening to Shiro’s voice as he begins to read out loud for him, a scene catching his attention so much he can't help but share it with Keith as he reads.

It’s so warm. Just being there with Shiro, sharing his space and comfort, the same roof over their heads. Shiro lifts his blankets and opens his arms to welcome Keith into his space. They cuddle up as it grows colder outside, another snowfall coming to Arus. Shiro’s voice carries Keith somewhere far, far away, a new universe he builds for him, telling a tale Keith has never heard of before but with Shiro… He’d explore all of it if he could always remain at Shiro’s side.

 

**SHIRO**

 

December rolls on with concerning speed with all the work at the Garrison Academy and before Shiro can fully get used to living together with the sharp-eyed artist, the Christmas rush is already making him bother all his friends with plans for this holiday. The picture isn’t a good one, just like everyone has feared. Even Kuron can’t come over this time, buried in his studies and additional courses, and Ryou is neck-deep in work. Shiro’s only hope is Allura but it looks like Lance and she are planning to spend the holidays at Alfor’s. 

It breaks his heart some more when one evening Keith comes back from work and falls face first into the couch in total exhaustion and only after a quarter of an hour long nap re-emerges, more or less human again, to bring the news of both him and Hunk having to work on Christmas.

"Someone ordered a banquet," Keith explains. "It's good money and no way Hunk would refuse so…"

Shiro nods, understanding. "Of course."

Keith's own expression sinks at the obvious sadness in Shiro's voice. He tries to recollect himself for Keith's sake but it still carries over to his day-to-day life until one morning a few days before Christmas Matt and Pidge decide they’ve had enough.

“Shiro, do you realise nothing stops us from going to Hunk’s on Christmas, right?” Matt asks as he stirs his mocha latte at the GA’s cafeteria.

“What do you mean?”

Pidge grunts, rolling her eyes. “You’re a bit thick for a Lieutenant, Shiro.”

Matt leans across the table and pulls Shiro in by the shoulder conspiratory. “Imagine. The diner is full with patrons, celebrating Christmas. Everyone has silly hats on. Your boy is juggling his duties, tired and sad he can’t go home and spend time with you—”

“Matt, what the hell?”

Pidge immediately picks up. “The doorbell rings. He lifts his eyes up and sees you — Matt and I at your heels — and for the first time that day, he  _ smiles _ . You go order some food, Matt and I secure a booth. We can help them all with the diner. You know, small things. You get to spend time with Keith, he gets all grateful on you, maybe climbs into your lap while no one’s—”

“Alright, alright, FINE I GOT IT!” Shiro’s blush is so ridiculously high on his cheeks his colleagues are giving him weird glances. It takes some time and a few gulps of his bubble tea to calm down before he begins to see the appeal of the Holts’ proposition and the demanding gleam in their eyes.

“Do you think… Do you think they’d have time for us? Wouldn’t we be causing more trouble?”

“Shiro, brother, listen to yourself,” Matt looks him hard in the eye. “You’re living with Keith for how long now?”

“2 weeks and 5 days.”

Pidge bristles. “Oh my god, you counted—”

Shiro blushes even harder and looks pleadingly at Matt. Graciously, he continues. “That’s almost three weeks and from what I’ve gathered it’s been heaven, right?”

It is. Keith is shy and sweet and Black has a sweet spot for him that makes Shiro a little bit jealous but mostly because he has to compete for Keith’s attention with his own cat. However, at the end of it all, Shiro has never felt happier, not with anyone. Keeping subtly an eye out for Keith’s routines to remain healthy and being rewarded with Keith’s cheeks beginning to bloom with healthy colour and his skinny frame finally getting a little rounder, softer, since Keith no longer skips on meals and both Hunk and Shiro make sure his diet is always nutritious and well-balanced. 

And Keith… God,  _ Keith. _

Shiro has never been into voyeurism but there’s nothing he can do to keep himself from completely freezing up on the spot every time he spies Keith changing in his bedroom, sometimes the crack in the door left carelessly open enough to provide way too delicious of a view. When it happened for the first time, Shiro kicked himself for it but treasured the memories — as if he hasn’t seen Keith down to his underwear back at Nah-Veer. There is something different in seeing him like that at home, though. 

When it happened for the second, then the third time — Shiro knew he was deep in trouble. It isn’t always easy to avoid stealing glances at Keith when he pads out of the bathroom after a shower, dripping water from wet, long hair. He’s— gorgeous. Sexy. Stunning. He sets Shiro's blood boiling with arousal every damn time.

Shiro’s jerk off sessions now last longer — and he has to keep quiet, only allowing a breathless “Keith” to escape his lips when he comes. But damn, he shudders with the most intense orgasms he’s ever had, his daydreaming getting out of hand with all the dirty things he wants to do with Keith.

“Earth to Shiro, come in!”

Pidge is waving her palm in front of Shiro’s face. Has been for a while, in fact.

Shiro hides in his hands and whines out, “Alright. Let’s do this. Let’s crash at The Lion’s Diner.”

“Oh thank goodness. I was beginning to worry you’re losing your IQ from being too horny in love—”

“Matt. Please. Not now.”

“Shiro, we’re  _ living _ with it. We see you every day LIKE THAT.”

“We’re at our limit.”

Shiro can only slowly sink under the table.

 

It turns out to be one of the best Christmas holidays he’s ever had.

Keith indeed lights up at the sight of Shiro and the rest at the diner, and Hunk nearly cries at the sight of them, too, since Christmas is his favourite and he hates missing out seeing his friends and family. The diner is always golden and warm but with the banquet — a big family coming to celebrate together for the first time in decades — it is homey and festive and the staff and other patrons all join the celebrations that last well until the closing hour. It only grows better when somewhere halfway in Lance and Allura show up, grinning and bringing gifts. 

They stay to help with fixing up the diner and cleaning since it won’t be open the next day. Everyone laughs and sings Christmas songs and Keith doesn’t shy away from pulling Shiro to dance with him for a bit since Lance and Allura have already started their own ball. 

It’s so good. All of it — his friends, the boy he loves, the holiday.

Shiro is grateful to be alive, and he drinks in every drop, every spark of laughter and affection until his heart is so full he trips over his feet and Keith catches him, laughing and steady and strong. 

But he is Shiro. Good things never last long in his life.

 

It’s New Year’s Eve. It’s quiet in the apartment, only some softly playing music disrupting the domestic calm. Keith is in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and getting ready to leave. Black is curled up on the top of his cat tree, sleeping soundly.

Shiro is busy breaking down by the kitchen sink.

Panic attacks come and go as they please and nothing promised Shiro would have one. 

Not today. Not when they finally have plans together. 

It’s probably his sobs that have Keith come sprinting to his side, calling out his name. It’s all hazy. He can’t really breathe, nor can he see his face.

He’s consumed by fear and pain and his right hand hurts again and again with that blinding flash that cut it off. How can a ghost hurt so much? Why? Why he can’t get enough of oxygen into his lungs?

His vision goes dark— He can’t faint from this, right?

No. It’s Keith. Keith’s wearing a black tee. He pulls Shiro in, holds him, says his name, begs him, over and over until Shiro finds himself not really able to tell reality and his imagination apart.

One second, he’s in the car with Sam and Matt. The next, it’s Keith yelling for him instead of Matt. Yelling his name, trying to warn him. Somewhere in there, he hears an “I love you” that was never there before. It must be his lovesick brain — his  _ sick  _ brain — playing tricks on him. That same fucking sick brain forcing him to relive his trauma over and over again until all his progress seems pointless and he’s stuck in a loop again.

He’s vaguely aware of sinking to the floor together with Keith. He’s aware of firm hands cradling him. He loves those hands. Strong, lean, every muscle defined. He wants to run his fingers over Keith’s skin and kiss every mole and beauty mark, the occasional scar here and there since Keith is a wild thing — just like his life. He wouldn’t mind letting Keith kiss his own scars, too. God. He’d let him do anything to him.

He really is slipping somewhere right now. 

“Shiro, hey—”

“I’m here, you’re going to be alright—”

“Fuck—”

“Look at me. Breathe.”

“In and out.”

“Yes, just like that.”

“Shiro.”

“ _ Takashi. _ ”

 

He comes back to it a little later. Or… quite some time later. The first thing he sees is Keith’s concerned face, the beautiful violet eyes shining suspiciously brightly. Then, Shiro’s brain registers touch. His face… is being held. Keith. 

“Hey.”

“H-hey.”

Keith searches his expression for a few moments, brows pinched together. He has his hair pulled back. To think… Shiro has never seen Keith’s forehead before. Now, his body aches everywhere but he stares dumbly at Keith’s forehead and thinks it’s the cutest thing. Keith’s face is heart-shaped. 

Shiro catches his thoughts. Thinks them over. Processes the fact he’s had a panic attack. 

He groans. 

“Shh, it’s okay. C’ mon, do you think you can get up?”

He can. He lifts himself up, wincing where his locked-up muscles cramp. Keith’s hands support him anyway, just to be sure, but Shiro straightens up on his own. Black immediately meows at him — he’s been sitting on the counter this entire time.

“Kitten,” Shiro murmurs. Black meows again, coming over to nuzzle into his outstretched shaking hand. 

Keith only leaves his side to bring some water but Shiro shakes his head. “What time is it?”

Keith’s voice is a little hoarse. “A little past eleven.”

“Shit. I’m— I’m so sorry.”

“Shiro, no. It’s okay.”

He glances at Keith but turns away quickly, resting the most of his weight on the edges of the sink he grasps onto tightly, head bowed. 

“We were supposed to go out with everyone. It’s a holiday… You should still go.”

Keith steps closer. “No. I won’t leave you.”

“You don’t have to stay here. I’m ruining everything, I always do.”

“No. No, you  _ don’t. _ ”

Shiro shudders with a violent sob but Keith catches him before he dives into that pit again that always is waiting for him. His trauma, his PTSD, his insecurities. All his demons and nightmares, always waiting, welcoming him in.

Keith rushes in and blocks out all of that like the sun breaking through the storm clouds. He calls him Takashi again and that is the sweetest sound. On Keith’s lips, it is.

“We don’t have to go anywhere, okay? I’ll call Lance and tell him we decided to celebrate at home. It’s just another New Year, anyway. We both had plenty of those.”

“Keith, what—”

He forces Shiro to turn and steps into his space, a firm, hard look in his eye. With his hair pushed out of his face, there is no hiding Keith’s intensity and it somehow grounds Shiro. He stays still. He lets Keith speak.

“I don’t really care about the party. I was only going because of you.”

“And I send it all to hell anyway.”

“Stop talking like that, Takashi. There is nothing for you to be blamed for.”

“You’ve just babysat me for— was it three hours? For fucking three hours on New Year’s Eve. Keith, I’m bad luck. You were supposed to be celebrating with everyone, not— not sitting with me on the floor.”

Keith looks down briefly. “Kuron told me it’s the anniversary of your accident.”

That… cuts through the air. Shiro sucks in a breath, eyes going wide as he stares at Keith.

“He did?”

“He only told me it happened on the 31st. And he told me you usually have it worse around this time so I was… kind of on a lookout and—”

Shiro pushes away from him. He feels like he’s choking.

“Shiro?” Keith sounds surprised. Hurt. Shiro avoids looking at him, just stands in the middle of the kitchen, clutching his hands into fists as he fights back the stubborn tears that still come.

“I don’t want to be coddled. I don’t want to be treated like a fucking infant.”

“You’re not that, Takashi. Not to me.”

He sobs. He doesn’t really hear the words. Or doesn’t want to. He’s so tired.

“Dammit. Stop. Don’t go there. Look at me, Takashi.  _ Look at me. _ ”

Keith is there again, catching Shiro’s hands, trailing his palms up over Shiro’s forearms and biceps until they ghost over his neck and cradle his jaw. Keith has to arch his body a little to stare directly into Shiro’s face — and he has to bend down to look at him, too.

“You’re not weak, you hear me? You’re not being coddled. You’re being taken care of — because I do fucking care about you, so much it scares me. And I don’t want to see you hurt. Not ever. And I’ll never give up on you, I’ll never leave your side if you need me.” He stops. Then frowns, as if realising something, then slowly lets go of Shiro.

“That is— Do you need me?” Keith asks with raw pain in his voice and Shiro sees it. Sees where Keith gets the notion — another thing to blame himself for.

He steps closer. “I need you. Keith, I need you. I’m so sorry, I—” He’s sobbing in earnest now, aching in his heart, in his soul, in his wrecked body. “I need you— Fuck, I do—”

Keith makes a sound that is awfully close to a whimper, then slams into him, full force, and holds so tight Shiro chokes on a sudden laugh. They do not speak but Shiro feels his shirt grow wet where Keith’s face is pressed into his chest and that is gross and silly and pathetic since Shiro’s been drenched in sweat a few times over during the panic attack. They still hold each other. Cry, together, as if letting go of all the build-up worries and troubles. 

Tears seem to have no end but eventually, even those begin to dry.

Black meows again rather tiredly after a while and only that — and maybe the fireworks — give off the hint that it’s midnight.

Keith straightens himself and glares openly at Shiro. “We’re fucking idiots.”

Shiro chuckles softly. “Happy New Year?”

“Promise me something, Shiro,” Keith’s voice lowers with demand.

He nods. 

“We’re going to clean up first. Then we’re going to get a Ghibli movie running. Get some ice cream. Then, we’re going to open the presents and just— Just stop crying and being miserable. Let’s start the new year with a clean slate. Okay?”

Shiro smiles because Keith’s is so puffy from tears and worked up but fierce like a lion and he stands his ground no matter what. He lifts his flesh fingers to push away a rogue lock of hair away from Keith’s smooth cheek and wonders how the hell did he let himself appear as anything but an utterly and completely smitten fool in love. 

“Is  _ Spirited Away _ good for you?”

“Yeah.”

Shiro hurts and he knows the inevitable talk of his accident is right around the corner, looming over his head, but he smiles. Exhausted, body heavy, he smiles because Keith has just brought him back again. 

He catches Keith’s hand before he begins to move away and presses his lips to the exposed, soft skin of his forehead, letting himself savour the contact for a few moments before eventually straightening up.

“Thank you, Keith.” 

He blushes fiercely and can’t help but rub his forehead but a grin still cracks across Keith’s features. 

Panic attacks, fears, issues, loss… 

When Keith looks at him like that right after witnessing something so taxing and possibly just as traumatic as a panic attack, when he still grins and accepts him, still picks them both up from the shattered pieces Shiro failed to hold together today… 

Is there really something they can’t do as long as they stay by each other’s side?

 

**KEITH, LATER THAT NIGHT**

 

_Did I really say it out loud?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that is it it for act 2 ♥  
> i don't know how updating will go for me in July since this girl has to work 209 hours and still manage to participate in two sheith bangs she signed up for but if anything, come chat with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/voidslantern). thank you all for comments and support, i would've caved a long time ago without you all!


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